


Soulmates Are Forever

by AromaticAromantic, SceneCipriano



Series: SMAF Trilogy [1]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Hand stabbing, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Stabbing, Stalking, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Torture, Toxic/Abusive Intrulogical, Toxic/Abusive Royality, Toxic/Abusive Virgil X Emile Picani, Unsympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Unsympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Unsympathetic Sleep | Remy Sanders, heavy implications of forced prostitution, implications of sex, poor coping mechanisms from characters, this gets very dark, tw heavily implied sexual abuse, you've been warned kiddos!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 74,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AromaticAromantic/pseuds/AromaticAromantic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SceneCipriano/pseuds/SceneCipriano
Summary: Love is something we learn at a young age. We learn that love takes patience and understanding, a delicate process one might say. Then there are times when someone feels love at first sight! They meet their soulmate in a chance of fate, though, sometimes... The other doesn't love you back, but that's okay! It will only take a little convincing... no matter how long it takes... because soulmates last forever...And we'll never let them go...*Will update on Saturdays!*
Relationships: Familial Deceit and Emile Picani, Familial Patton & Virgil Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Princani (RomanxEmile)
Series: SMAF Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688932
Comments: 310
Kudos: 278





	1. Prologue: Forever Trapped

_April 12, 1992_

It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered. There’s no way around this. I’m stuck, hopelessly, despairingly stuck. I can barely bring myself to lift my head as my captor enters the room. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.

“So, dear, are you ready for today? I thought we’d start with something nice and hot, just for you! I have matches and some irons, and-”

“Please,” I whisper, straining my throat to speak, “please, no...I can’t…”

He sighs deeply, bouncing on the balls of his feet and drumming his fingers against his leg in irritation. My own feet hurt, still sore from the day before, and two of my fingers are broken, bent at unnatural angles.

“Now, sweetheart we’ve been over this! There’s only one way I’ll stop and you begging isn’t one of them. You know what I want to hear my precious star.” 

How could I not know? The words were seared into my brain, but before this, I couldn’t, no, I wouldn’t say them, but now… Now I have no reason to fight. Nobody was looking for me, not anymore. My heart drops when my captor sighs in boredom striking a match as he does. 

“I-I love you! I-I l-love you and I n-need you, m-my saviour!” 

He stops, I hold my breath in anticipation. A yelp tumbles from my chapped lips as he jerks my head back by my matted dark hair. Manic green eyes bore into my own hollowed dark ones. 

“Care to repeat that my dear?” He asks. 

“I-I love you… I-I need y-you my saviour.” 

Part of me screams that I’m making a mistake, that I need to stop, but I’m tired. So tired of fighting, I just want this hell to be over. A wide grin breaks out against my captor’s face, making him seem even more demented than he actually was. 

I close my eyes tight when he crashes his mouth against mine, trying hard to reciprocate the kiss. It only lasts a couple of seconds but it still leaves me winded. 

“I love you too, my precious star! But my dear that still isn’t enough… We’ll give it another week, now! What would you like me to use first? The matches or the irons?” 

Tears slip down my bruised face, I take a shuddering breath, “T-The matches… my saviour.” 

I let my head slump as my captor - no, saviour - strikes a new match. Breathing is hard. I want this to be over.

“Are you going to ask nicely?” my saviour asks me.

“...Please, the...the matches, please, my saviour... _please_ …”

I’m pathetic. I know I’m pathetic. I want this to be over. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll do whatever he says, say whatever he wants. I need this to be over with, and that’s all I care about anymore.

He kisses the burns after it’s over, murmurs that I look beautiful, and that I’ll look even more so on our wedding day.

“Wed...ding…?” I echo softly, my voice seeming louder than it truly is in the otherwise empty room.

“Well of course! I’ll ask you properly in a week's time, but we both know you’ll say yes!”

Part of me wants to argue, to tell him that it would never happen, but I know better. I force a smile, wincing as a cut on my bottom lip splits open from the movement. 

“O-Of course… I wouldn’t dream of telling you no my saviour…” 

I’m startled awake when the door to the room I’m in swings open, I squint my eyes when a ray of light shines over my face. ‘ _What’s happening?’_ My thoughts were interrupted when a deep and unfamiliar voice spoke from the doorway. 

“My God, the kid was right. Get the EMT’s in here! Mr. Sanders, can you hear me?”

My heart leaps into my throat as I shield my eyes from the light, a man in a dark blue police uniform walks over to me. When the officer gets close enough I immediately reach my hand out to touch his chest, a cry of relief leaves my chapped lips when I touch a solid body. ‘ _Not a hallucination this time.’_

I throw myself at the officer and cling to him desperately, my knuckles turning white due to how tight I held onto his uniform shirt. My body trembles from the sobs that leave me, everything was finally over after all this time. 

The officer places a comforting hand on my back, softly telling me that it was okay now, that I was safe and that an upstanding citizen led them to me. 

My crying left me tired once more, I struggled to keep my eyes open. 

“Go on and rest, you’re safe now.” 

I feel myself relax and sigh, unconsciously snuggling into the officer’s chest. I close my eyes and allow a genuine smile to come to my face. 

‘ _It’s finally over…’_

“Look at how pretty you are… My precious star sleeping so peacefully!” 

My eyes snap open and I’m staring face to face with my saviour, his manic green eyes opened wide and rung in purple eyeshadow, something I hadn’t noticed before until now. I open my mouth to scream only for him to place his hand over my mouth, he gives me a knowing smirk and clicks his tongue. 

“Now, star, it’s not nice to scream in a hospital, trust me I know I did it once before and got kicked out!” 

I glanced around the room, it was much brighter than the room in the abandoned building. A heart monitor and IV stand was to my left, the heart monitor going off erratically due to my fast heartbeat. 

“Do you promise not to scream if I move my hand? Because this kind of gagging is not sexy at all!” My saviour exclaims. 

I flick my eyes back to him and slowly nod, he removes his hand. We stare at each other in complete silence for several seconds. 

“W-Why?..” 

“Why are you here? Simple! I couldn’t just waltz into a courthouse with a known kidnapped victim and get married! No, far too suspicious my dear. That’s why I had to save you first. The town sees me as a hero because I saved you!” 

I stare at my saviour, waiting for him to say that this was a joke, but it never came. 

“Y-You…” 

He cut me off by grabbing my left hand, his touch was gentle and foreign. 

“Look, star, I know these past two years have been difficult for both of us, but I was serious about marrying you. I didn’t _want_ to hurt you, but I had to make you love me. And now you do! So… Would you do me the honour of making me the happiest man alive and becoming my husband?” 

My stomach drops, he did say he was going to ask me to marry him properly within a week, had it really been a week? And had it really been two years since I was taken? Every part of me screams to say no, to scream for help and tell whoever would listen that this man was the person who took me, but the tight squeeze told me that that would be a bad idea. I swallow thickly and close my eyes tight to stop the tears from falling. 

“Y-Yes… I-I’ll marry you, m-my saviour.” 

I stand rigid in a judge's chambers, wearing a plain white dress and a bouquet of white lilies clenched tightly in my hands. I zone out most of the ceremony as the officiator went over sacred passages and then my saviours vows. I come to when my name is said. 

“Do you Logan Sanders take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?” 

‘ _Say no! Tell them the truth, don’t do this! Protect yourself!!’_

“I do…” 


	2. Bunny Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emile is in some deep trouble and Desmond is such a relatable character :D

- _Present Day: March 20, 2012-_

Emile was getting fed up with the odd messages. Every time he blocked a number, they returned with a new number. They weren’t threatening, or anything that made him believe he should go to the police. Just sporadic “hi”, “why aren’t you replying”, “are you there?”

Probably a wrong number. Or some guy who was given a fake number. At first, Emile had tried telling him this, but over the last couple of weeks he’d given up. If he just kept blocking and ignoring, surely they’d get the message?

He sighs as he turns his phone off, silencing the constant dinging that came from the unwanted messages. Emile glances in the full body mirror and runs his fingers through his pink fringe, a nervous tic he developed when he was a teenager. 

“Emi! Your breakfast is getting cold, stop worrying and get down here!” His boyfriend calls from down in the kitchen. 

“I’m coming, Roman!” 

Emile looks into the mirror once more and gives his reflection a reassuring smile, ‘ _Everything was going to be okay.’_

The smell of coffee and eggs fills Emile’s nose when he steps into the kitchen, he chuckles when he sees his boyfriend swaying to the melody of a Disney song that was playing from his phone’s speaker. Emile sneaks up behind the distracted redhead and places his arms around Roman’s waist, earning a squeak from the taller man. 

“You’re the cutest you know that?” 

“I do! I actually hold the world title of being the cutest man alive, now you need to sit and eat. You’re not going to work on an empty stomach.” Roman replies as he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Emile’s mouth. 

Emile chuckles as he sits down at the table, taking a sip of his coffee as he does. “What would I do without you, Ro?” 

“Starve, considering you can’t cook.” 

The young therapist in training rolls his eyes as he scoops a bite of eggs into his mouth. 

“Wrong, Dee would feed me plenty.” 

“Until the two of you get into an argument, then you’d have to rely on fast food.” Roman teases as he sits next to Emile with his own plate of food. 

Emile sticks his tongue out and drinks more of his coffee before shoveling the rest of his eggs into his mouth. He quickly chews and wipes his mouth with a napkin before pressing a kiss to Roman’s cheek. 

“Speaking of arguments, I’m going to have to take the bus this morning. Apparently calling him a ‘reckless’ driver was insulting.” 

“Desmond Wickham a reckless driver? _Please,_ going eighty through a residential is his default setting, it’s only reckless if he goes ninety!” Sarcasm drips from Roman’s mouth as he bites into a piece of buttered toast. 

Emile snorts in amusement and shakes his head, “Of course, but I better go. I’ll text you before I go in.” 

Roman quickly snatches his boyfriend by the waist, causing Emile to bend down slightly allowing Roman to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“Be careful, my precious rose, I love you.” 

“I love you too, prince charming.” 

Emile adores the way Roman still blushes at the nickname. They’d been dating since High School, with only a short break at college before Emile missed Roman too much and begged for a long-distance relationship. And yet the man still got flustered over the nicknames Emile found for him.

In a way, it was ridiculous, and Emile’s brother would happily say that until the cows came home. But Emile knew Desmond liked Roman really, and more than anything it was sweet. It reminded him of when they first started dating, and everything was new and experimental.

It was hard not to adore the reminder of how Roman would blush every time they held hands, or squeak at every chaste kiss. They may have grown and become more mature about those things, but the small flusteredness over nicknames remained a soft spot.

“How did I get so lucky?” Emile asks. 

Roman’s blush deepens as he buries his face against Emile’s side, causing the pink-haired boy to laugh. 

“You’re such a _sap,_ Emi! Get out of here before I decide to keep you to myself for the day.” 

Emile chuckles and presses a kiss to Roman’s fiery red hair before stepping out of his boyfriend’s relaxed hold. 

“I’ll be home around eight-thirty, want me to pick up some pizza for dinner?” 

Roman waves his hand and gently shoos Emile away. 

“I don’t mind cooking, besides I want to be better than Des at it one day, so I need the practice now go my precious rose.” 

Emile steals another kiss before rushing to put his shoes and coat on, “I love you, prince charming!” 

A satisfied smile comes to his face when Roman lets out a flustered squeak, he leaves with a high pitched ‘I love you too’ following him. Emile hums softly to himself as he strolls towards the bus stop, he would try calling Desmond around lunchtime and make amends. 

“I should really think about getting my license…” 

Emile huffs as he pulls his phone from his pocket, he turns it back on and is met with constant dings from the same random number that was texting him this morning. One message sent a chill racing down his spine. 

‘ _Pink is definitely your color ;).’_

That was the last message that was sent, Emile jumps when the roar of the bus’s engine snaps him out of his shock. He puts his phone back into his pocket and takes a deep breath, ‘ _They’re not talking about me, it’s okay I’m just overreacting.’_ Emile tells himself as he counts out the right amount of money for the bus fare. 

He flashes the bus driver a small smile as he pays the fee, the driver tips his hat and closes the door as Emile moves to sit in the back. 

‘ _It’s still going to be a good day, it's okay.’_

A part of Emile no longer believed that thought. 

He tries to ignore thoughts of the text as he plugs his earphones in. There was no need for him to worry about odd texts. He’d never had strangely personal texts like that before, why would they start now? It was probably aimed at someone else, like all the other texts.

_You seriously still believe that? Come on, let’s stop kidding ourselves._

Emile ignores his inner voice, choosing to focus on the song that was playing, it was _Stronger Than You_ from _Steven Universe._ He tenses when the song is cut off with a new text notification. Emile takes a breath and opens the text, his blood ran cold. 

‘ _I can see you, that’s my favorite cardigan of yours that you’re wearing.’_

Emile looks up and scans the patrons in front of him, no one looks out of the ordinary, everyone minding their own business other than a mother who was struggling to calm her infant down. 

‘ _Who are you? Please leave me alone, my brother is a detective!’_ He texts back. Emile watches anxiously as the three text bubbles appear and disappear multiple times. His mouth goes dry when the dreaded reply comes through with a chime. 

‘ _I’m your saviour, my precious bunny.’_

He forces himself to breathe upon seeing the message. That was creepy, yes, but it was fine, right? There was no way he could _actually_ see him.

_‘Is your phone background still that guy dressed as a cartoon character?’_

Emile breathes deeply and looks at his phone background. Roman had taken him to a comic con and had cosplayed as Prince Zuko from _Avatar The Last Airbender._ Zuko had never been Emile’s type, but when it was Roman? Hot. Burning hot, one might say.

He frantically texts back with ‘ _no, it’s the gay pride flag’._ A lie, but that was fine, right? There was no way this stalker - that’s what it must be, right? - could know for sure.

He gets the next message within a moment.

_‘Liar.’_

His heart races as he breaks out in a cold sweat.

‘ _I’m not lying, it really is the gay pride flag!’_

The reply was almost instant, Emile’s hands were shaking as he read over the text multiple times. 

‘ _Funny, because to me it looks like a pretty red-head with blue eyes, with a shitty white foundation on and a crappy looking attempt at a burn scar. Prince Zuko right? From Avatar The Last Airbender? Gotta say I didn't think he was your type.’_

Emile scans the bus again, everything once again seems normal, no one standing out, only the mother with the infant was finally relaxed with the sleeping child resting against her chest. 

‘ _Leave me alone, if you text me again I’m going to my brother.’_

Once the reply is sent Emile immediately blocks the number, cutting off all contact with his apparent stalker. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, he could handle this, he didn’t need his brother’s help right now. Surely with the threat of telling his _detective_ brother, _‘You don’t really think Dee would believe you? He’s got better things to do than worry about you.’_

Emile winces at his inner voice, ‘ _That’s not true…’_

“Hey, Emile! This still your usual stop or were you planning to go somewhere else today?” The bus driver calls back to him, it wasn’t odd for him to know Emile considering the bus was the young therapist’s most used choice of transportation. 

“Sorry, Greg! I was just lost in thought!” 

Emile quickly stuffs his phone back into his coat pocket, he walks briskly down the bus aisle, giving Greg a small wave as he steps off. He takes a deep breath and puts on his serious face. 

“Time to get this day over,” he mumbles as he makes his way into St. Joseph’s Behavioral Health centre.

Emile puts on a calm smile as he walks inside, the cool air from the air conditioning fanning his face. Emile was a therapist in training, or well that’s what his boss says. He’s a therapist, only the health centre wasn’t hiring new ones yet, so he landed the job of being the psychiatrist's assistant until a therapeutic job was open. 

Emile couldn’t wait till that day came, he had so many ideas on how to help his future patients. Most of his ideas involved cartoons but others involved other methods like journal entries! He would let his patients tell their stories in a fictive kind of way, giving them a fun time with therapy and a more comfortable way to talk about their problems! 

“Emile! Finally, thought you were going to be late, follow me.” A feminine voice beckons from across the lobby. Emile looks up and sees the familiar dark face of his boss, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges as she flashes him a smile, her ebony hair let down for once instead of being held back in a tight bun. 

Emile nods and walks over to her, struggling to keep up with her long strides as she marches down the hall ahead of him. 

“You seem in a chipper mood, Caroline, did Marcus finally pop the question?” 

“Very funny, Picani, but no. I’m in a chipper mood because one of my patients agreed to let you sit in during their session! I’ll be asking your input on things they should be doing to handle their depression, I think you’ll get along with them you two act very similar.” 

Emile blinks his green eyes in shock, he stares at her for a moment waiting for her to laugh and say ‘gotcha!’ But it never came and Emile couldn’t help the huge grin that stretched across his face. 

“Really!?” Emile squeals. 

Caroline chuckles as she stops in front of her office door, she turns to look at him and nods. 

“Really, I finally get to see just how good you think you are, rookie.” 

Emile stifles his excitement when Caroline opens the door, he takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose. ‘ _I can do this!’_

He closes the door behind him once they step in, Caroline’s office was the biggest in the health centre, with a mahogany desk and black leather chairs. Sitting in the chair on the left in front of Caroline’s desk was a man a year or two younger than Emile. He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, not as blue as Roman’s they were a paler shade, while Roman’s looked more like sapphires. 

The man wore glasses with a black square frame, a light dusting of freckles over his tanned face. Now, Emile wasn’t one to judge anyone on their clothes considering his outfits choices consisted of baggy sweaters and cardigans, but this guy looked like one of those commercial fathers with a standard blue polo, khakis, and a cardigan or in this man’s case, a cat hoodie tied around his shoulders. 

Emile flashes the man a polite smile and offers him his hand, “Hello! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, do you how do?” His smile widens when the man chuckles at the reference he made. 

“Spongebob ref, nice! I'm peachy, Dr. Picani! My name’s Patton Holter, it’s nice to meet you!” 

The two shake hands, Emile’s left wondering where he had heard that name before. 

Within an hour Emile had learned just about all there is to know about Patton Holter. Patton was born on January 19th, 1985 and he has a twin brother, he was adopted by his two father’s when he was five, and he has been struggling with depression since he was sixteen. His methods of dealing with his depression were taking antidepressants along with talk therapy twice a week. 

“You could try journaling, my boyfriend has depression and keeping a journal usually helps him, only he makes up characters and uses them as a way to vent,” Emile suggests. 

He notices a change in Patton’s blue eyes, a type of recognition and malice at the mention of Roman.

“I’ll give that a try! My brother writes songs, he’s got anxiety problems and writing out depressing lyrics always seems to help him, but I’ll try story-telling. It might be fun!” 

Pride swells up in Emile’s chest, ‘ _I’m actually helping someone!’_

“Well, seeing as you liked Dr. Picani’s idea we’ll give it a try, Patton. I don’t have any blank journals right now, but I should have one by the time you come in this Friday, is that okay?” Caroline asks. 

“Of course! I can’t wait for the two of you to read what I write!” 

Another hour passes before Patton’s session is up, Emile stands when Caroline does, offering his hand to Patton giving him a polite smile. A cold chill races down the young therapist’s spine when he notices how cold Patton’s baby blue eyes looked. His smile was sharp and dangerous instead of the playful smile he had on earlier. 

“See ya soon, Emile,” Patton says as he tightens his grip on Emile’s hand. 

Before Emile could reply, Patton was out the door leaving him and Caroline alone in the office. 

“Well, you’re better than I thought, Picani. Good job!” 

“Thanks… Do I get to sit in on the next one or?” 

“Fraid not, kid. You can help the nurses give out medicine and get everyone situated, then after that paperwork that needs to be signed. Think ya can handle that?” 

“Of course!” 

Emile and Caroline bid their farewells as he closes the door to her office. Emile stops mid-stride down the hallway and turns to look back. He could have sworn he saw a wisp of grey fabric going around the corner. 

He shakes his head and chuckles softly to himself, ‘ _I’m just paranoid after those texts.’_

He sets off to go find the nurses, which at this time of day would be in the old building. A few years ago the hospital had a donation big enough to make a new building, where they did most of the important procedures now. But the old building was still in use, and Emile hated it.

The only way to get to it was through the back entrance of the _new_ building, follow the path (which was in an awful state), and then unlock the side entrance of the old building. And with his recent creepy texts, he really didn’t want to be out of sight. Just in case.

_You’re being paranoid, it’s fine._

With a deep breath, he heads out the door, down the path, trying not to catch his foot on the worst of it. He’d heard of nurses breaking things on the path, and whilst they could just be rumours, he didn’t care to turn into a rumour himself.

He rounds the bend, and pauses, hearing something behind him rustle. What if…? No, ridiculous. He turns to see a cluster of bushes and chides himself. Of course, bushes would rustle. Most plants do if there’s enough of them.

He turns back, humming softly to himself as he approaches the side door, only to freeze at the buzz of his phone. He tries to ignore it, but it buzzes again, and he hesitantly reaches for it.

“I swear I turned you off,” he mutters, but sure enough, it was on, and he had two texts.

_‘Hey Bunny.’_

_‘Behind you.’_

Emile turns quickly, looking around desperately and tensing up. Plants, plants, door, car…

“...Damn, they really got me there,” he mutters, “...I knew I was being-”

A cloth is shoved over his mouth as he gasps, and he internally curses himself for not staying aware as he realises someone is _now_ behind him. Emile struggles weakly, trying to tear the hand holding the cloth away from him, with no luck.

“Just sleep now, bunny.”

_I...no…_

Emile is out before he can fight back any more.

Desmond sat in his car with his seat lounged completely back, this was how he normally spent his breaks. Just taking naps inside his car, well he had _other_ ways he spent his breaks but Alvin wasn’t there today. Desmond cracks his left eye open when the radio strapped to his side comes to life. 

‘ _I need any available officer to visit St. Joseph’s Health Centre. A nurse called in saying something about a patient escaping again.’_

Desmond quickly snatches his radio and presses the PTT switch, “I’ll go, I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

‘ _You could be in here doing your paperwork, Wickham.’_ His boss cuts in. 

“What I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up, captain!” 

He shuts his radio off and fixes his seat, Desmond knew he was going to get hell for ignoring the captain later but oh well, it wasn’t like that was anything new. Besides, him taking this gives him the chance to apologize to Emile and let him know that he’ll be picking him up later. 

Desmond sighs when his phone begins to ring, he accepts the call and puts on a fake cheer. “Captain! Ya know it’s dangerous to be on a cellphone while driving sir.” 

“You’ve done it plenty of times, so I know you’re not worried about it. You can’t keep putting this paperwork off, Desmond.” 

“Yeah, I know but the assistant I hired will handle it tomorrow. It’ll get done, now let me handle this issue, alright?” 

The captain sighs. 

“You and your brother got into another fight, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe…” 

“Alright, fine go make up with him but you bring your ass right back here afterward, got it?” 

Desmond rolls his eyes, “Yes sir,” he drawls as he hangs up on his boss. 

Desmond presses his foot the gas, surging down the residential road, funny this was what led to his and Emile’s argument. ‘ _I really hope he’s okay…’_ The last time they got a call about a patient getting loose Emile had gotten hurt. Getting smacked with a bedpan was not a fun experience for his little brother. 

It wouldn’t have been fun for the patient either if Emile had let Desmond have ‘talk’ with them, but Emile said that it would look bad on his record if he assaulted a mentally ill patient. What? He’s got a temper sue him! 

Desmond slows down when the health centre comes into view, he furrows his brows and narrows his blue and brown eyes. 

“Odd… There aren’t any nurses out looking this time around.” 

He pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park before he even has a chance to step out, a nurse rushes over from inside the old building. Desmond blinks when her face went from fearful to utterly heartbroken. 

Tears gather in the nurse's brown eyes, “I… I’m so sorry… I-I should have gone out when I saw someone behind him. I'm so _sorry!”_

“Hey calm down, alright? I’m sure we’ll find Mr. Stevenson, he never goes far.” 

The nurse lets out a sob, Desmond twitches at the sound but forces himself to calm down. 

“I-It wasn’t a patient! I-I told them… I-It was your brother, somebody took Emile and I couldn’t see their face, I am so s-sorry!” 

All the air was knocked out of Desmond, ‘ _Somebody took Emile…’_

Roman paces the living room, his phone clutched tightly in his hands waiting for Emile to send him a text message or to at least call him. He checks the time, fifteen past nine, Emile was supposed to have been home almost an hour ago. 

Roman feels his stomach drop when there’s a knock at the door, he quickly walks over to it and swings it open. 

Desmond stood on the stoop with his hand raised, ready to knock again. Bi-coloured eyes meet blue, they’re both silent for several minutes before Desmond speaks up. 

“Emi’s missing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! The poor little Bunny was ensnared!


	3. Love Comes Softly (With A Bit of Pain)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOVE IS IN THE AIR KIDDOS! 
> 
> And Desmond's impatience with his co-workers-

_March 22, 2012_

Pain was the first thing he felt, his head throbbing as consciousness returned to him. He groans, ‘ _What happened?’_ Emile opens his eyes and is met with darkness due to something being tied over his eyes, panic sets in when he’s unable to move his arms, feeling a scratchy material tied firmly over his wrists. 

“You really shouldn’t struggle, bunny. You’ll cause some nasty rope burns by doing that.” 

Emile looks to where the voice came from, there was someone standing right in front of him. 

“W-Who are you? Where am I? P-Please, let me go… I-I promise not to tell anyone about this!” Emile cries, tears dampening whatever was held over his eyes. 

He flinches when cold fingers stroke his right cheek, the person touching him lets out a soft chuckle, to Emile it sounded deranged. 

“I told you, I’m your saviour. We’re _soulmates,_ bunny! I can’t let you go, we’re meant to be together…” 

A choked sob leaves Emile’s trembling lips, he didn’t know what was going on. Was this the person behind the creepy texts? Why was this happening to him? 

Emile closes his eyes when the blindfold is tugged off, the light wherever he was being kept wasn’t too bright, but it was bright enough to make his eyes hurt. He slowly blinks his eyes open, allowing his tears to fall freely. His vision still blurry, he really hoped that his glasses hadn’t been destroyed. 

“Oh, right! Forgot you’re almost as blind as papa is, I kept your glasses safe!” The stranger exclaims as he gently places Emile’s glasses back to their rightful place. Emile blinks and leans back when he realizes just how close the stranger is to his face. 

The stranger had on a bright smile, his skin was pale with a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose. His eyes were hazel and they were rung with black eyeshadow, his hair was dyed a faded purple. 

To Emile the guy in front of him just _screamed_ emo, with his patchwork purple plaid and black hoodie, and ripped skinny jeans. 

“I can’t believe this is happening, you’re in _my_ house! Oh, I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was thirteen. Oh, silly me where’s my manners! Honestly, dad would be disappointed in me! My name’s Virgil Holter and I’m your soulmate!” 

There was that last name again, _Holter._ Where had he heard it before? 

“You’re so pretty up close…” 

“E-Excuse me?” Emile squeaks. 

Virgil opens his mouth to repeat what he said only to be cut off by a vaguely familiar voice. 

“Ignore my brother, Dr. Picani. He just can’t get over having you here in person.” 

Emile looks up and sees Patton Holter standing on what he could guess was a set of basement stairs. Emile takes a moment to take a good look at the two men in front of him, he could see the similarities between them. Both having the same slim nose and sharp cheekbones. 

“You’re his twin brother…” Emile whispers. 

“You told him about me!? What did you say, Patty? Whatever he told you is a lie!” 

Patton chuckles and steps the rest of the way down, taking his place next to Virgil. He slings his arm over Virgil’s shoulders and grins. 

“It was all good things, I promise, Storm Cloud! And well good job, Dr. Picani! Care to make more wonderful deductions pertaining to your situation? We’re good listeners we promise!” 

Emile feels his mouth go dry, he knew something had been off about Patton at the end of his session, wasn’t that only a few hours ago? 

“H-How long?..” 

“How long have you been out? Hm, a day and a half. I used a bit more chloroform than I should have, but oh well! You’re here and awake and that’s all that matters!” Virgil exclaims as he cups Emile’s face in his cold hands. 

“Alright, that’s enough ogling, Virge. Dad said you need to start training him, I can’t help right now because I need to go into work. I can’t be late on the first day.” 

Virgil huffs as he lets go of Emile’s face, he stands up straight and turns to his brother. Emile noticed that Virgil was at least an inch or two taller than Patton. 

“Fine, go on I can handle this until you get home.” 

Emile watches as Patton goes back upstairs, shutting the door behind him. Virgil turns back and gives Emile a gentle smile. 

“Now, repeat after me, bunny, ‘ _I love you and I need you, my saviour’.”_

Desmond sits at his desk, chugging down his fifth cup of coffee. After he told Roman about Emile’s abduction last night he couldn’t sleep, choosing to stay up to see over the case that he put a rush on. He didn’t want to go a minute longer without his baby brother home. 

“Detective Wickham?” 

Desmond jumps and hisses when some of his coffee spills over his white dress shirt, he turns around and sees a man a couple of years younger standing behind him. The man had a bright smile, blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair, he looked friendly but Desmond couldn’t help but feel on edge with the guy. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Well, I would hope so! I’m your new assistant, Patton Holter! It's nice to finally meet you, sir!” Patton exclaims as he holds his hand out. 

Desmond makes a face and gently pushes Patton’s hand away. 

“Right… Well, first of all, don’t call me ‘sir,’ that’s too damn formal for me.” 

Patton’s smile drops a bit before he forces it back up, Desmond sighs and drags his hand through his brown hair. 

“Sorry, you just came in at a bad time, I’m a bit on edge I don’t mean to be snappy.” 

“It’s okay, Detective Wickham, I’m sure you’re a really nice guy! Oh, would you like me to get you some more coffee? It was my fault that you spilled this one.” 

Desmond waves the offer away. 

“Nah, but thank you though. I’m sure you know the jist of your job right? You just sign off on some paperwork and hand it into Captain Craine.” 

Patton grins and holds his thumbs up. 

“Of course! Is this my desk? Oh, it’ll be great working so closely with you, Detective Wickham!” 

Desmond takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose, he should be used to this kind of excitement considering Emile is his baby brother, but Patton was a whole other level. 

“Okay, Pat? Don’t call me ‘Detective Wickham’ all the time either, just call me Desmond or Des, and yes the desk across from mine is yours. Some of the paperwork that needs to be filled out is in the bottom drawer, I’ll try to get the rest to you later. Right now, I need to deal with a case.” 

Desmond turns to leave, only to be stopped by Patton grabbing his wrist. 

“What’s the case you’re working on?” 

“A missing person…” Desmond replies as he pulls his wrist out of Patton’s hold. He glanced back and a chill ran down his spine at Patton’s smile. 

“I hope you find them alive, Des.” 

Virgil was an artist. A good one, Emile had to admit, but that wasn’t the point. He was an artist, who was eagerly showing Emile a sketchbook full of highly detailed sketches of Emile.

“And this is you when you were at the cafe the other day!”

Emile looks aside nervously, and Virgil slaps him, the force sending Emile’s head back to facing the man. Virgil’s face is stone cold, and Emile’s heart stops for a second.

“Look at me, bunny. You need to learn that. You need to understand that _I’m_ the only thing you care about, the only person you want to hear, the only thing to pay attention to...oh, until we have kids, of course…”

“K-Kids?” Emile echoes, but Virgil continues, as if the prospect of them ever having children together had never been brought up.

“But this is the page I wanted to show you!”

It’s a page full of elaborate “V”s. In all fonts, with flourishes and lines and incredible details. Emile can guess it’s a V for Virgil, but he doesn’t understand why. And he doesn’t really want to ask either.

Virgil still tells him.

“I’m deciding which to tattoo on you! See, my papa has my dad’s initial on his wrist, but he did it with a knife, and the scar fades and needs upkeep...but a tattoo? Stays forever! I’ll do it in black ink so it really sticks!”

Emile stares at the various ‘V’s, he gulps and looks back up at Virgil. 

“I-I don’t… I don’t want a tattoo. Please don’t make me get one…” 

Virgil stares at him for a moment, Emile feels his heart thumping wildly in his chest waiting for Virgil to agree to not giving him a tattoo. 

Emile yelps when Virgil smacks his mouth, the metallic taste of blood tingling his tongue as he tries to ignore the throbbing pain. 

“It doesn’t _matter_ what _you_ want, bunny. It matters what I want, you’re my soulmate and it needs to be known so other people won’t try to steal you from me.” 

That had been the last straw for Emile. He could handle the hitting, but he could not handle someone let alone a stranger try to control what happens to him physically. Emile glares up at Virgil, he knew this was an illogical thing to do, but anger was winning out against logical thinking. 

“I-I am not your _soulmate!_ I don’t even know you!! T-The only person I would ever consider a soulmate is my boyfriend! N-Now, let me go or you’ll be sorry when my brother finds me!” 

Emile’s breath was ragged as he and Virgil stare at each other in tense silence, several minutes tick by. Emile watches as Virgil slowly closes the sketchbook he’s holding, the young therapist in training holds his breath, waiting to see if his little outburst was enough to scare Virgil into setting him free. 

A loud SMACK fills the basement as Virgil hits Emile across the face with his sketchbook, Emile’s glasses fly off of his face sliding across the concrete floor. 

“You!” Smack “Don’t!” Smack “Speak!” Smack “To!” Smack “Me!” Smack “Like!” Smack “THAT EVER AGAIN!!” Virgil screams as he repeatedly hits Emile with the sketchbook. He stops when the book comes apart due to the hard hits. A frustrated yell leaves Virgil’s mouth as he throws the ruined sketchbook at Emile. 

“Now I have to go find my other sketchbook! Stupid bunny!” 

Virgil stomps up the stairs, slamming the door behind him as he leaves Emile alone down in the basement. 

Tears stream down Emile’s throbbing face as he lets a strained sob leaves his still bleeding lips.

‘ _Somebody please come save me…’_

“Come on, Jim! You gotta tell me what you found at the crime scene, there’s gotta be more than the nurse’s statement!” Desmond exclaims as he follows the lead detective over his brother’s case through the bullpen. 

Jim sighs and stops, he turns causing Desmond to stop midstride. 

“Look, Des. I can’t tell you anything because we didn’t _find_ anything, there was nothing left behind where your brother was taken, there are no security cameras in that walkway unless the nurse who called can suddenly put a face to the kidnapper, we’re at a dead-end here.” 

Desmond narrows his eyes at Jim, “You guys just don’t do your damn jobs right. Search it again, and I mean actually search not just look and shrug your shoulders when you don’t see anything directly in front of your face.” 

With an annoyed huff, Desmond stomps back over to his desk he flops down in his seat and rubs his temples, his patience was beginning to run out with his incompetent co-workers. 

Desmond sighs when a disposable coffee cup is placed down in front of him, he looks up and sees Patton standing next to him, that same bright smile plastered onto his freckled face.

“You seem stressed, Des! I figured a nice cup of joe as my uncle calls it would cheer you up!” Patton exclaims. 

“That’s because I am stressed… Thanks for the coffee, Patton. Shouldn’t you be working?” Desmond asks as he smells the coffee, a hint of vanilla fills his senses. 

Patton’s smile widens, ‘ _Could this guy be even more creepy?’_ Desmond thinks as he offers Patton his own uneasy smile. 

“I actually finished! It was a lot of paperwork, but it didn’t take long at all! After I gave it all to the captain, I spent my time organizing my desk, I even put a little cat bobblehead, see!” 

Desmond looks to where Patton is pointing, sure enough, his desk was in neat order with a grey cat bobblehead sitting on the left corner of his desk.

“That’s cool, Pat… Say since you’re finished and won’t have any work tomorrow, can you do me a favor?” 

Patton bounces in place, shimming his shoulders as he does.

“Sure! What do ya need me to do, bossman?” 

“Don’t call me that and I want you to keep my brother-in-law company, well he’s not my brother-in-law but he might as well be. He’s been a little distressed since the whole… kidnapping incident.” 

Patton smirks and nods. 

“I can do that! Just text me the address and his name, and I’ll be sure to pop right over and keep him company!” 

Desmond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he allows a relaxed smile to come to his face as he takes a sip from the coffee that Patton had brought to him.

“Sure thing, thank you for doing this Patton, it means a lot. You can head on home if you like.” 

“Really? Gee, thanks, Des! Well, see ya tomorrow! I hope you get a break in that missing person’s case!” 

“Yeah, me too…” 

He watches as the red-head paces back forth in his living room, Roman only wore one of Emile’s shirts and a pair of red shorts, nervously biting at his thumbnail. He would have to break that horrible habit his Romeo has. 

“I’ll also have to make sure you wear one of _my_ shirts because Emile is never coming back to you, my Romeo…” 

He giggles as he snaps a picture of the unsuspecting red-head, adding it to the folder that held hundreds of others. He sighs dreamily when those blue eyes look out to the bushes that he’s hiding in. Those beautiful eyes held so much sorrow…

“Don’t worry my love, your Juliet will be there to save you… We’ll be together soon…” 

If Roman felt as if he was being watched? Well, then that would only be his secret and his secret alone. 

“Honey! I’m home~!” Patton sings as he slams the door to his and his brother’s house open. Patton frowns when he sees Virgil curled up on their couch, his hood pulled over his head. He could hear his little brother sniffling, trying his best to muffle his crying with his hoodie sleeves. Patton walks in and kicks the door closed behind him, he drops his stuff by the door and rushes over to Virgil, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“What’s wrong, Stormy?” 

“M-My bunny… _yelled_ at m-me, papa doesn’t yell at dad! Why did my bunny yell at me, P-Patty!?” Virgil cries as he buries his face against his brother’s chest. 

Patton’s frown deepens as he holds his brother close, ‘ _I’ll show that ignorant soulmate that it’s not polite to yell.’_

“Virgil, I need you to go out and get the water hose ready, I’m going to go down and open the window in the basement, we’re going to teach your bunny a lesson.” 

Virgil nods and wipes his eyes, smudging his eyeshadow as he does. Virgil huffs and mumbles something about his bunny regretting ruining his make-up as he moves to do as he was told. 

Patton smirks, ‘ _Trust me, he’s going to regret it big time.’_

Emile looks up startled when the basement door slams against the wall, he squints his eyes trying to see who was coming down the steps. 

“V-Virgil, I’m sorry for yelling at you… I just… I-I want to go home, just _please_ let me go home, I promise not to tell on you o-or your brother.” 

Emile grows tense when a familiar giggle sounds directly in front of him. 

“You’re going to be sorry! You made my baby brother _cry,_ Emile! Now you wouldn’t like it if I made your brother cry, would you? Speaking of your brother, I met him today! He’s quite lovely, but I gotta know, where did that scar over his left eye come from?”

Emile narrows his eyes, he couldn’t see Patton, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t glare at him. 

“Y-You leave my brother alone!” 

“Relax! He’s my boss, I wouldn’t hurt him besides he's pretty intimidating.” 

‘ _Boss?’_ Emile thinks that was when everything clicked. Why Patton’s name sounded so familiar. Desmond had told him about Patton. 

“You were the assistant he was hiring… I-I knew your name sounded familiar.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever back to the matter at hand. I can’t let you get by with making my brother cry, Emile.” Patton says as he walks towards the small basement window, flicking the latches unlocking it. He flips it open and holds his hand out, grabbing the water hose when Virgil hands it to him. Patton presses the nozzle’s button grinning when a burst of water sprays against the wall of the basement. 

“See, Emi, can I call you that? Of course I can! But… ya see _Emi,_ I don’t really appreciate your hostile attitude towards my brother… We’re going to have to get rid of this little issue of yours if you’re going to be a good soulmate.” 

Emile feels his heart pick up, he hears Patton walk around him, something sliding across the floor as he does. He struggles against the ropes, ignoring the fact that he can’t get loose in hopes of a miracle happening. 

“Ya know, when I was in college, I took a psychology class. Now it wasn’t really my cup of tea, but I did learn some interesting facts! Like how hydrotherapy was used against people with manic-depression psychosis. Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I do know that manic-depression is also referred to as Bipolar disorder, and if my memory serves me right, that’s a mood disorder, correct?” 

Emile swallows thickly as he nods. 

“Great! Now, again I’m not a psychologist, but I think you’re going through a manic phase, really lashing out at people. We need to calm you down.” 

Emile just blinks and looks to where he’s guessing Patton is standing, “W-What? What are you tal-!” 

A blast of cold water to the face cuts him off, the chilling spray goes on for several minutes before it stops. Emile sits, staring wide-eyed as he trembles from head to toe. 

“Awe, what’s wrong doc? Too cold?” Patton mocks. 

“Spray him again, bunny needs to learn some manners that he obviously lacks.” 

Emile looks up and sees the purplish blob of Virgil’s form, he couldn’t see his face but he just knew that there was a smirk on the younger man’s face. Before Emile could plead his case, he was sprayed again with the chilling water. 

He screams at them to stop, the water sprays a bit longer before Patton turns it off. Emile is left gasping and drawing his shoulders up trying to fight off the cold that was seeping into his bones. 

“How far did you get with the brainwashing, Virgil?” Patton asks as he twirls the water hose around. 

Virgil huffs and crosses his arms, glaring at Emile’s trembling form. “Not very far… I tried to get him to admit that he loves and needs me but he wouldn’t so I gave up… I was showing him all the pictures I drew of him and the V’s for his tattoo! That was when he yelled at me…” 

Patton frowns before allowing his bright smile to come back, he shimmies his shoulders and looks at his brother in glee. 

“Well, we’ll just have to make him admit it, now won’t we? Your bunny looks pretty cold Virge… We should _warm_ him up.” 

Virgil perks up, allowing a matching smile to form on his face as he rushes up the basement stairs, knowing exactly what his brother meant. 

Patton hums softly to himself as he throws the water hose to the side, he walks around the basement, stopping when a pair of light pink glasses comes into his view. He bends to pick them up, using the edge of blue polo to clean the lenses off. 

“Ya know, you should be glad it’s us that got you, because our uncle and dad were planning to take you for us, and they’re not as easy going as Virgil and I am,” Patton says as he gently places Emile’s glasses back on his face. Green eyes stare up in fear. 

“P-Please… P-Please just let me g-go… I w-won’t tell anyone…” 

The basement door slams open once more, Virgil’s excited footsteps could be heard as he bounded down the stairs. Emile noticed the matchbox that was held in the younger man’s left hand. 

“How about instead of begging to be let go, which is never going to happen by the way. You use those lovely vocal cords of yours to tell my brother you love and need him, yeah?” 

Virgil excitedly takes out a match as Patton roughly pulls Emile’s shirt open, causing some buttons to fly across the room. Emile feels his heart rate speed up, he struggles against his bonds once more trying to get free. 

“Now repeat after me! ‘ _I love and need you my saviour’!_ ” Patton exclaims. 

Emile shakes his head and presses his lips together, his eyes widen when Virgil strikes a match, a flame coming to life. 

“Last chance, bunny~!” Virgil coos. 

Emile narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, “B-Bite me.” 

His screams bounce off the basement walls when the flame touches his skin, the twins laugh. 

“Only twenty-eight matches to go~.” 

The next day, Patton finds himself standing in front of an all too familiar white door, this was where his Romeo was. This was where he was going to step in and save his precious Romeo from endless heartbreak, he was going to have Roman forgetting about Emile in no time. 

Patton takes a deep breath as he knocks on the door. His heart leaps into his throat when he hears his Romeo’s melodic voice call out from inside. “ _I’m coming!”_ Patton takes a calming breath and puts on a smile. 

The door swings open to reveal Roman in the same outfit he wore yesterday, Emile’s _Steven Universe_ shirt hung loosely over the redhead's frame, Roman wasn’t exactly small, Emile just tended to buy his shirts bigger than they should be. The red shorts Roman had on were low on his hips, it took everything in Patton to not stare, opting to look into those sea-blue eyes that were staring at him, a well-manicured eyebrow arched in confusion. 

“I’m uh… Patton! Desmond’s assistant? He asked me to keep you company!” 

“Oh… Right, yeah he said you’d be stopping by… well, come in.” Roman mumbles as he walks back into the apartment. 

Patton smirks and follows him inside, ‘ _Don’t mind if I do, Romeo~.’_

Virgil screams in frustration as he jerks Emile’s head back by his dyed hair, “Why won’t you just say it!? Why do you have to be so _stupid!!_ ” 

Emile flinches and closes his eyes against the throbbing pain of having his hair pulled, everything hurt, from the burns and bruises he obtained yesterday, all the way to the cuts he had received that morning. The cuts weren’t deep, but they were the type of cuts that stung with every move that was made. 

“B-Because I don’t love you and I sure as hell don’t need you! J-Just let me go!!” Emile screams. 

Virgil lets go of his hair, opting to drag both of his hands through his own, gripping the purple locks slightly as he breathes deeply. 

“I-I can’t do this alone… Ugh! Dad did this perfectly fine on his own! Why do you have to make things so difficult!” 

Emile braces himself for a slap, but it doesn’t come. He looks up at Virgil, his hazel eyes suddenly bright, a smile twitching to life on his pale face. Emile watches as he pulls his phone from his back pocket. Virgil only taps a few things before pressing the phone against his left ear. 

“Why are you answering the phone? Never mind, let me talk to dad.” 

Emile swallows thickly as he watches Virgil pace back and forth, he flinches when he suddenly yells. 

“I don’t care if he’s busy!! Let me talk to him or I’m telling him that you yelled at me!” 

Emile frowns, ‘ _Who is he talking to?’_

“Dad! Yes, yes I miss you too, actually, I’m glad you brought that up! I need help… He’s not wanting to listen and I’m really reaching my limit with him.” 

Emile feels himself tense, watching as a bright grin spreads across Virgil’s face. 

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!! Okay, Patty and I will see you tomorrow, bye dad, love you!” Virgil exclaims as he hangs up. He looks at Emile and smirks, that simple look told Emile that he was in some serious trouble. 

“We’re going on a trip tomorrow bunny, you won’t have a choice but to say you love and need me now~.” 


	4. Romeo Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >:) (That's all I got, have an early update XD)

_March 24, 2012_

Desmond sighs as he reads over the case reports, there was nothing new about his brother’s case, no new evidence, no new details about the kidnapper’s description, just _nothing._ It wasn’t like his co-workers weren’t doing their jobs, they didn’t recanvass the scene again as he told them to, they weren’t taking this seriously and it was beginning to get on his nerves. 

“Wickham! My office!” Captain Craine calls. 

Desmond groans and stands from his desk, his back popping uncomfortably as he does, he should really head home, but he couldn’t get comfortable knowing his brother was out there and possibly being hurt.

He ignores that stares his co-workers were giving him as he strides across the bullpen. 

“Close the door, I want to speak to you in private.” 

Desmond knew that that had meant he was in trouble, because no one wanted to speak to him in private unless they wanted a fun time or if they wanted to yell at him, and considering his captain is straight with a lovely wife and four grown children, Desmond knew it wasn’t for a fun time. 

“Look, captain, I know I’m pushing it without taking breaks but I promise I’ll take one tod-.” 

“You’re off the case.” 

Desmond blinks his brown and light blue eyes, staring at Captain Craine in silence, waiting for the older man to laugh and say it was a joke, but it never came. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, you’re off the case. It’s too personal for you, everyone’s been making complaints about you blowing up at them, and they’re unable to do their job.” 

Desmond felt himself twitch, how was he the cause of them not being able to do their job when they weren’t doing it in the first place? Desmond takes a breath, he can feel himself begin to tap against his right thigh. His fingers going, index, middle, ring over and over as a way to keep himself calm. 

“I’ve not been ‘blowing up’ on them captain, I just want them to do their damn job and recanvass the lot again. I can’t keep them from doing their jobs if they’re not doing them in the first place, sir.” 

Captain Craine sighs heavily as he rubs his temples, “Desmond, they’ve done that, I even personally went with them to check the scene. There was nothing there, I can’t let you stay on the case, because your emotions will get in the way if we do find a lead. Don’t make me bench you until this is all over, you’re off the case and that’s final.” 

Desmond grits his teeth, his tapping becoming more insistent. 

“ _Fine,_ since I’m off the damn case I’m going home.” 

“Okay, that’s fine I was going to send you home anyways you need rest, Des. I expect you and Holter back here tomorrow morning though, there will be a new case waiting for you two.” 

Desmond frowns, “Patton’s just my assistant, why does he have to be here?” 

“His uncle wanted me to give him a chance in the field, and since he is your assistant it gives you a chance to work with a partner again, now go home you need all the rest you can get.” 

Desmond wanted to argue that he didn’t need a partner, but he knew that it would be a losing battle. So, he just huffs and leaves the captain’s office, making sure to slam the door behind him as he does. He grabs his coat from the back of his desk chair and storms out of the bullpen, ignoring everyone’s stares. 

Desmond pulls out his car keys, he cuts across the parking lot in three long strides unlocking his car doors as he does. Once inside his car and takes a deep breath and slumps against his steering wheel, groaning. 

“How am I going to tell Roman about this?” 

Emile is startled awake by the sound of the basement door banging against the wall, he looks up and sees Virgil making his way down the steps, a bundle of purple and black fabric under his left arm, a pair of black converse dangling from his right hand. Emile furrows his brows in confusion. 

“Don’t give me that look, bunny. We’re going to visit my parents today and you need to look appropriate, I do love your clothes but they’re too casual. Besides, I want you to wear an outfit I picked!”

Emile frowns, “Why can’t I just keep my own clothes?” 

“Because you don’t have a choice in what you wear. You’re a soulmate, you wear whatever I want you to wear.” 

Virgil sets the clothes and shoes aside, Emile perks up slightly when Virgil begins to untie his bonds. It’s been a while since Emile has eaten, but he’s sure that he has enough strength to get past Virgil. If he doesn’t stop or get caught by anyone then Emile should be able to make it out of the house. 

Once the last of his bonds were untied, Emile took his chance. Kicking Virgil in the stomach, causing the younger man to fall back wheezing for breath. Emile quickly runs up the basement steps and out the door. 

“BUNNY! YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” Virgil screams. 

Emile looks around, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He’s in a spotless kitchen, the colour schemes clashing against each other with light pastels and dark purples and blacks. He shakes his head and dashes across the room through an archway leading into a living room. 

‘ _There’s the front door!’_

Emile runs to the door, not bothering to look back. He undoes the lock and throws the door open. Before he was able to take a step outside, a pair of hands grabbed him from behind, jerking him back inside with a scream leaving his mouth. 

He’s thrown to the carpeted floor, getting a carpet burn against his cheek. Emile looks up and watches as Virgil slams and locks the door back. His captor turns around, hazel eyes burning with anger. 

“You shouldn’t have fucking done that.” 

Desmond sighs as he stands outside of Roman and his brother’s apartment, he wasn’t sure how he was going to tell Roman about him being taken off of Emile’s case, but Desmond knew that he couldn’t keep it from him. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, blinking when he hears laughter coming from the kitchen. 

He walks inside, making sure to close the door gently behind him. Desmond slowly makes his way over to the kitchen doorway, peeking in. Patton and Roman stood in the kitchen, covered head to toe in flour. Desmond couldn’t help but smile, at least Patton was doing his job in keeping Roman company. 

“Dee! Did you finally get a break? Anything new on the case?” 

Desmond winces at Roman’s enthusiastic tone, he forces a smile and steps into the kitchen, noticing the sweet smell of cookies baking in the oven. 

“Um… No, nothing yet Ro, I’ll be sure to tell you when something comes up. What are you two doing and why are you both covered in flour?” 

Patton and Roman look at each other before falling into a giggle fit. 

“I was showing Roman how to make homemade chocolate chip cookies! We got into a bit of a food fight though.” 

Desmond watches the two of them interact, the way Roman’s face lit up with a smile. 

‘ _I’ll let him be happy… He deserves that bit of peace for now…’_

Patton hums as he walks into his and his brother’s house, the day had been perfect. He and Roman spent hours talking to each other, Patton had to admit that being up close with his Romeo was a much better experience than watching him from afar. Patton blinks when he hears pitiful sniffling coming from the couch. 

He looks over and lets out a low whistle, Emile sat on the couch, the lenses in his glasses were cracked and his face was a bruised mess with his bottom lip busted, a trail of dried blood on his quivering chin. 

Patton noticed that Emile was in a purple jumper, a black pleated mini-skirt replaced the soiled brown slacks he had on, a pair of black and purple striped knee socks was all he wore to cover most of his pale legs, a pair of black converse tied tightly on his feet. Emile’s wrists laid on top of his lap bound together with rope.

“You look like shit, what’d you do to piss my baby brother off?” 

Emile sniffles and tries his best to stifle a whimper, “I-I tried to run away after he untied m-me to get dressed…” 

Patton tsks and shakes his head in disappointment.

“When, are you going to learn that you’re never getting out of this?” 

Emile lowers his head and sobs softly, Patton shrugs and walks into the kitchen. He grabs himself a soda to-go and walks back into the living room. 

“Virge! Let’s go already, papa should have supper almost ready!” 

Virgil groans as he walks downstairs, Emile makes sure to not look at Virgil afraid of possibly upsetting the younger man again. 

“It’s only five, Patton. You know papa always starts cooking at six, but fine we’ll go. You need to drive though, I need to make sure my bunny doesn’t try anything while in the backseat.” 

Patton huffs and walks back out, telling both of them to hurry or else he would leave them behind. Emile flinches when Virgil pulls him up from the couch, keeping a tight grip on his left arm. 

“Just a warning, bunny. If you try that shit you pulled earlier at my dad’s house, you’ll get it ten times worse because dad hates runners.” 

Emile doesn’t even try to fight as he is dragged out of the house by his captor.

Desmond waited until Patton left, he didn’t want his assistant to be there not when it was a personal matter. He and Roman were sitting on the couch, enjoying the cookies that were made earlier that day. 

“Roman? I um… I have something to tell you.” 

“What is it, Des? Is everything alright?” Roman replies. 

Desmond takes a deep breath, ‘ _It’s now or never…’_

“I was taken off of Emi's case. I’m too emotionally invested in it, the captain was scared that I would let my emotions get the best of me.” 

“But… But you’re the best they have! They couldn’t have just… Bend the rules a bit?” 

Desmond shakes his head and rakes his hand through his curled brown locks. 

“No… But I’m still going to look for him, I’m going to bring him home, Roman. Even if it’s the last thing I do, my baby brother will be home safe.” 

Desmond tenses when a pair of strong arms wrap around him, squeezing him tight. He returns Roman’s hug, resting his cheek against Roman’s red hair. 

“I trust you, Dee…” 

Emile stares up at the white two-story house, to anyone else it would look like a normal home for a normal family, but Emile could see the oddities that didn’t make this house look like the others around it. 

Yes, it had a normal dark green window shutters with a matching roof. There was even a lovely rose bush in the garden bed in front of the home. To anyone else, it would look like a normal home, but not to Emile. 

No, Emile noticed the blackout curtains that covered just about every window and he noticed the multiple cameras that surrounded the parameter of the house. He also noticed the green eyes peeking out from behind one of the blackout curtains. He shudders slightly, unsure of what to make of it.

“Come on, Bunny, we’re going in.”

Emile winces as Virgil tugs him towards the door, which suddenly felt intimidating, looming over him, despite its regular size. Every step makes his aching body feel heavier, his lungs tightening until it’s hard to breathe. His head pounds at the realisation that going into the house means not coming out.

_No! No, Desmond will save us - and we can try to escape again. Right? Right!_

He hesitates, preparing to run, adrenaline coursing through his body. He could sprint away from the door, even as he gets closer. And closer again. He takes a deep breath, prepares to turn and run.

The door swings open, and a middle-aged man - late 30s? Early 40s? - appears, dark hair offset by a lock of grey that was nearly white. He grins widely and Emile is frozen on the spot.

“Virgil! Patton! You came - and you brought a soulmate with you!”

There it was again. _Soul mate._ Emile feels bile rise up at the word. Soul mate. He hated it. _Hated it_. And he had written soulmate au fanfiction until he was 19!

“Yuh-huh!” Patton bounces as Virgil hugs the man. “We caught him ourselves, but Virgil was having trouble training him!”

The man seems to grin wider.

“Well, bring him in!” He turns and calls out into the house, “Star! We have a _guest_ here, get some snacks ready!”

As Emile is half pushed into the house, he spots a shadowy figure run into another room. He opens his mouth to ask who the person was, only to have the man grab him by the jaw, his green eyes flicking across his face. 

“He sure does have a lot of bruises, Stormcloud. Did something happen before you guys left?” 

Virgil huffs and crosses his arms, “He tried to run away. Kicked me and everything dad, did papa ever do that to you?” 

‘ _This is their father?’_ Emile thought, wincing as the man pushes his face away. Emile rubs his jaw and tries not to glare at him for the rough treatment. 

“Of course, not. He knew better, besides where I kept him it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. Don’t worry, Stormy, we’ll get that disobedience knocked right out of him.” 

Emile wanted to argue, he wanted to so badly say something, but he kept his mouth shut, he wasn’t going to be like his brother and be a hothead in this situation, not when he could possibly end up getting killed. 

He looks past the man with the manic green eyes when someone softly clears their throat. Standing behind him was another man, he looked to be in his early 40’s with square-framed glasses, his dark hair was styled neatly and his bangs swept to the right. Emile noticed how frail-looking the man looked, much too skinny for his age, but even with his malnourishment, the man was still pretty. Even though he wore an ill-fitted pale green button-down shirt with a way too short black skirt that would even make a hooker blush. The man wore pale green silk stockings that went to his thighs, a pair of sparkly black stilettos fitted uncomfortably over his feet. 

Emile watches as the man shifts uncomfortably, he quickly flicks his gaze away, opting to stare down at his black converses. 

“I um… brought the snacks you asked for my saviour. I-I hope cookies are fine it’s all I made...o-oh and um some...t-tea as well.” The man stutters as he places the tray he was holding down onto the coffee table. How could Emile have missed that? 

Emile glances up when a startled squeak leaves the frail man. 

“Thank you, Star! Now, Emile right? Is it okay, if I call you Em? Of course, it is! Anyway! My name is Remus Holter, I’m Patty and Virgil’s father! And this is the love of my life, my precious star, Logan! Feel free to call us by our names, no need for that ‘Mr. Holter’ nonsense.” 

Emile watches as Logan squirms in his husband’s grip, obviously uncomfortable in the hold, but he was going ignored. 

“Don’t be rude, Star, say hi,” Remus says, his hold tightening. 

Emile notices the flinch and how Logan tenses under Remus’ touch. 

“Apologies… It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Emile.” 

Emile flinches when Virgil nudges him, his hazel eyes narrowed at him as he mouths, ‘ _Say something or else.’_

“Um… It’s nice to meet both of you too…” 

Emile tenses when Virgil drags him over to the ugly forest green couch, Virgil sits down first, he pulls Emile onto his lap. Virgil wraps his arms around Emile’s waist, holding him tightly. 

Virgil reaches around and unties Emile’s hands, letting the rope fall to the floor after he does. 

“Patton? Aren’t you going to sit down, kiddo?” Remus asks as he flops down on the matching loveseat, pulling Logan down with him causing the older man to stumble slightly due to his heels. 

Patton looks up from his phone and flashes his father a small smile. 

“Nah, I’ve got a date to be heading to. Papa, put some of the desserts away for me for when I come home, love you dad, Virgil.” 

Emile watches as Patton walks out, closing the front door behind him. He wonders if he would be able to get away in time before anyone catches him. 

“So! Let's have a chat, Emile.” 

Roman grins widely when he opens the door, Patton stands on his doorstep, a bouquet of red roses held in his left hand as he matches Roman’s smile. 

“Are these lovely flowers for Moi? You really shouldn’t have, Pat!” Roman gushes as he takes the flowers from him, inviting Patton inside. Roman wasn’t really a fan of roses but he didn’t want to tell Patton that and possibly hurt his feelings. 

“You just missed, Dee. He went back to his apartment, said he had to let out some ‘steam’ if you catch my drift.” 

“That’s completely understandable! He’s been pretty stressed lately, not to mention he and I do have that new case to start on tomorrow. So, I’m glad he’s relaxing in his own way!” Patton replies. 

‘ _If only we could relax like that my Romeo…’_

“Pat? Did you hear me?” 

“Hm? Sorry, I must have zoned out for a bit, what was that, Roman?” 

Roman chuckles, hiding his smile behind his hand. His red painted nails standing out against tanned skin. 

“I said, we could order out and watch a movie if you want. I would cook, but I’m not really feeling up to it…” 

Patton tries not to frown, this bit of laziness would have to be something that he would need to fix, but that shouldn’t be hard. 

“Of course! I would hate for you to stress yourself out. You order the food and I’ll pick the movies? I was thinking we could watch _Beauty and the Beast.”_

Patton notices how Roman’s eyes light up, a soft smile coming to his tanned face as he nods. 

“Sounds lovely, Pat. I hope you like Chinese.” 

Later that evening, they both sat on the couch, a large fluffy blanket over them, their bellies full of Chinese take-out, their third movie playing on the TV. Patton glances over and watches as Roman sings along to _Be A Man._ A small smile forms on his face as he looks away, Patton notices their fortune cookies still left untouched on the coffee table. 

He leans over and snatches the cookies, catching Roman’s attention as he does. Patton grins as he hands Roman a cookie. 

“Can’t forget about these suckers, now can we?” 

Roman chuckles and shakes his head as he takes a cookie, “Of course not, let’s open them at the same time okay? One, two, three!” 

They both snap the cookies open, taking the fortunes out. 

“Great love will be coming your way soon, awe! Well, that’s a promising fortune! What does yours say, Ro?” 

Roman re-reads his fortune, he could feel tears burning in his eyes. 

“A great loss will befall upon you… D-Do you think this is because of Emile? D-Do you think s-something bad is going to happen to him?” 

Patton holds back a grimace, opting to pull Roman into a tight hug. He gently rubs the redhead’s back. 

“I’m sure Emile is alright… Don’t worry, Desmond will find him.” 

‘ _In a gutter maybe…’_

Roman sniffles as he clings to Patton. 

“O-Okay… Thank you… Um… Would you like to sleepover? It’s… It’s been lonely here without him, and I don’t want to bother Des…” 

Patton grins and gently wipes Roman's eyes with his thumbs. 

“I would love to.” 

Dinner with the Holter’s had been tense, Emile and Logan weren’t allowed to speak. When Emile had tried to, that earned him a smack to the mouth from Remus, causing Virgil to try and stifle a laugh. Now, Emile was left alone in the living room while Virgil was taking a shower. 

The television was on, but he was ignoring it. Emile glanced over to the door, several locks were clicked in place. Even if he were to try, Remus would hear him trying to undo the locks. Emile sighs and rubs his face, he didn’t know how he was going to get out of this. ‘ _I’ll just have to play along until Dee comes…’_

Emile looks towards the kitchen when hushed whispers break through the sound of the TV, he glances back to the stairs, Virgil wasn’t going to be coming down any time soon. Emile takes a deep breath and steps over to the threshold of the kitchen door, making sure to press up against the wall to keep himself hidden, he could hear Remus and Logan talking about him.

“I’ll take care of him,” Logan offers, soft and meek, “teach him the ropes, so to speak, my saviour?”

Emile tenses up. He had hoped this man would be on his side, but then again, who knew how long he’d been here? He could be plenty broken. Or worse, willing from the start. Well, that part was unlikely. Logan’s eyes were dull and empty. Emile was sure that whoever he had been was long gone by now.

“Can I trust you, my little star?” Remus half coos the words, cupping Logan’s face in a pseudo-affectionate manner. “You know what happens if I can’t.”

Emile watches nervously as Logan leans in and pecks Remus’ lips.

“Of course, my saviour. I was going to show him around the kitchen, teach him Virgil’s favourite recipes.”

Perfect. Emile was a terrible cook. He’d always relied on Desmond to do that for him. And then when he moved out, Roman had been eager to do the cooking. And now he was going to be forced to learn in order to satisfy his kidnapper. Just perfect.

“I’m sorry.”

Emile blinks. Logan had said the words so quietly, so softly, that Emile almost believed he’d imagined them. But when he turned to Logan, he could see the man’s eyes were wet.

“I’ll...do what I can to help you,” Logan whispers, trembling, “but...I’m sorry. I don’t know if you’ll get out of this.”

“...I will,” Emile says, trying to reassure him, “I - my brother - he’s a detective - works with the police, he can-”

“The police can’t help.”

“But my brother-”

“ _Can’t help!”_

Emile tenses at Logan’s half hissed words. The older man struggles to compose himself, tears threatening to go down his cheek.

When one does, Emile notices it removes a bit of what looks like makeup, revealing a hint of a bruise underneath.

Watching Logan kiss Remus was weird. It was obvious that Remus was into it, pulling Logan onto his lap and grabbing at his hair. Logan meanwhile was passive, not fighting back, but certainly not putting any effort of his own into it. Emile didn’t want to see it, but he couldn’t exactly _not_ see it.

Even if he didn’t see it, he could hear it. Mostly he could hear Remus, grunting and moaning and hissing. But every time Remus tugged harshly on Logan’s hair, the man would wince and make a vague whimpering sound.

Logan looked awful. Emile wasn’t going to say it out loud, of course, but the man looked terrible. Dark bruises across the left side of his face, running down his arms. Cuts and scrapes and scars on all visible skin. Deep bags underneath his eyes, and a stiff limp.

“You need to get up,” Logan mumbles, “it’s late.”

Emile blinks before turning to look at Virgil’s alarm clock, which seemed to be some odd “Emo” character with a monochrome appearance. It wasn’t late unless it was _pm_ and not am like Emile believed.

“It’s six-thirty in the morning,” he protests, as Logan places a set of neatly folded clothes onto his lap.

“Exactly. Half an hour later than I should have let you sleep in. Now get dressed and join me downstairs.”

Emile groans, but when Logan leaves he reluctantly gets up, clutching the clothes. He had to wonder where his own had gone. He slips out from the room and tiptoes to the bathroom, which he has to appreciate. The ability to take a shower was a good one, although he couldn’t remember which shampoo to use.

Once dry, he had more of a problem with the clothes. He liked cute clothes, yes. Pastels and cartoon characters and oversized comfy cardigans. But this could best be described as “child-like”, and at worst could be compared to the clothes a woman wore in a video his big brother once showed him. Where the woman called her husband “daddy” and pretended to be a child.

Strange stuff.

A pink checkered pleated skirt with suspenders, equally as pink with bows down them. Thigh-high white socks, with embroidered bunny rabbits on the sides. And worst of all, a pink top that showed his midriff, _baby girl_ written across it. He hated it. He hated all of it.

(Well, admittedly the socks would be cute, if not for Virgil insisting on referring to him as “bunny”.)

He reluctantly puts the outfit on, however, because he didn’t have a choice. There wasn’t anything else for him to wear, after all. He still lingers for a few moments before leaving the bathroom, slinking downstairs whilst trying to pull his skirt down as far as possible.

Logan looks at him when he enters, something between judgemental and apologetic somehow on his face.

“Why did you make me wear this?” Emile asks bitterly.

“I didn’t,” Logan replies, turning to check the oven. “Virgil told me he wanted you to wear it.”

“Why does he get to decide?”

“Same reason why my saviour decides on my outfits. We’re soulmates.”

Emile doesn’t respond to that, instead tugging at his skirt again and taking a long look at the now fully dressed man. Sure enough, he was dressed in a sickly shade of green that was just awful enough to make you stare when you realised how horrible the colour was, whilst not awful enough to make you immediately notice.

More noticeably was the lack of bruises, covered by a layer of makeup. Emile had to admire how well Logan had done it. But with a sinking feeling, he realises that Logan was probably used to doing this if yesterday was anything to go by.

“Get the eggs out of the fridge for me.”

Logan’s tired voice brings him out of his thoughts, and he quickly does as instructed, praying that Logan doesn’t ask him to help cook.

“Right, if you put some bacon on, I’ll do the eggs. My saviour is picky about how they get done.”

“...I don’t know how.”

Logan visibly pauses, closing his eyes as if to calm himself. Emile couldn’t help but feel that Logan found his lack of cooking skills irritating already.

“...Then it’s time to learn. Virgil likes his bacon, so you need to get used to cooking it well for him.”

Emile bristles slightly. Logan said everything with such a sense of finality that it was depressing.

“I see no point in getting used to cooking something when I won’t need to. No offense Logan, but my brother _will_ come find me. I’m not going to give up hope.” 

Logan sighs and looks at him, “Well, until your hero brother does that, you can play along and try not to get yourself killed. Now please, put the bacon in the frying pan and make sure it doesn’t burn.” 

Emile huffs and does as he’s told albeit reluctantly. 

‘ _I’m not going to be like you…’_

Patton is woken up by a lovely smell, it was sweet with a salty and meaty undertone. “Are you going to sleep the day away or are you going to get up and join me for breakfast? I can’t eat all these pancakes and sausages myself ya know.” 

Patton peeks out from the blanket that was thrown over him, it takes him a moment to remember where he was. Roman stood over him, fully dressed in a white shirt and dark red jeans, his red hair was styled in perfect waves, his bangs hanging in front of his left eye. Patton felt his heart flutter, ‘ _You’re so pretty…’_

Roman barks out a laugh, startling Patton out of his mild daydream. 

“Well thank you! This is the first time I’ve dressed in something that wasn’t pajamas since Emi went missing! Now, are you going to flatter me some more or are you going to get up and join me for breakfast?” 

Patton feels his face heat up, he lets out a nervous laugh as he sits up. He stretches and groans when his back pops multiple times. 

“I think I could compliment you all morning, but I am pretty hungry so it would have to wait.” 

Patton grins when Roman’s face flushes, the redhead lightly smacks his arm and walks back into the kitchen, telling him to hurry up. Patton chuckles and stands from the couch, stretching again as he does. 

He walks into the kitchen and flops down in a chair, earning a giggle from Roman as the redhead slides a glass of orange juice over to him. 

“I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I got you some orange juice instead.” 

“Well, you’re in luck! I hate coffee, but my brother on the hand? He can drink that stuff practically twenty-four seven. I always joke that his coffee problem is why he’s so bitter.” 

Roman chuckles as he sips his tea, “Emi, loves coffee too, but he can’t have it unless there’s two tablespoons of sugar and a lot of milk.” 

Patton frowns slightly but quickly covers it up by taking a bite of pancakes. His blue eyes light up as he looks up at Roman. 

“These are _amazing._ Who taught you how to cook?” 

Roman flushes slightly and smiles shyly, “My mum did, she said it was important for me to learn, and well she was right because Emile has the cooking skills of a three-year-old.” 

Patton couldn’t help but smirk, ‘ _Looks like I lucked out in the soulmate department.’_

“Oh, shoot! Ah, I have to go. I can’t be late meeting with my client, feel free to borrow one of my outfits for today, I know you didn’t pack any clothes and Emi’s won’t fit you. I wrote Dee’s address down for you because I know he’ll oversleep.” 

Patton watches as Roman downs the rest of his tea, snatching his dark red jean jacket, right before he leaves the kitchen he turns and gives Patton a bright smile.

“Thank you for staying with me, it really meant a lot.” 

With that, Patton was left alone. He couldn’t help the smile that was plastered onto his face. 

‘ _I wonder what I should wear…’_


	5. The Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond is a mood

_March 26, 2012_

Emile once again found himself in a basement, only this time he wasn’t held in place by ropes. Iron shackles kept his arms in place on the chair, matching shackles kept his legs pinned. Emile noticed the mysterious red stains that were on the shackles, a part of him knew that it wasn’t rusted but he didn’t want to think about it.

“First of all, kiddo and you know I hate correcting you, but you were rushing everything. He’s not going to automatically love you, you have to make him.” 

Emile wanted to roll his eyes and say something snarky, but he was going to do what Logan had suggested that morning, he was going to play along. 

“I thought papa said he was going to teach him the ropes?” 

“He is, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get in a few sessions, besides your papa isn’t here right now.” 

Emile found it odd that Logan was allowed to go to the grocery store alone, but he supposes that it wasn’t all that odd considering the older man had given up the will to escape years ago. Emile tenses when both Holter’s turn to look at him. 

“Now! A fun thing I learned while I was showing your papa how much he actually loved me, is that heated iron shackles are the best way to go when you’re first starting out.” 

Emile tenses and feels himself unconsciously pulling at his restraints, his heart hammering in his chest. He watches as Remus walks over to a metal cart, he grabs something from the top and passes it to Virgil. 

Remus looks to Emile and gives him a bright smile, “Alright! First chance, Em! Admit that you love and need my son.” 

“N-Never, do your fucking worst.” Emile spats. 

“Have it your way.” 

Logan grumbles as he struggles to carry the groceries inside, it would have been easier if his saviour hadn’t demanded that they always get paper bags instead of plastic. Logan sighs and tightens his hold on the bags to keep them from slipping. 

“Would it kill any of you to help me?” Logan asks the empty family room, he sighs knowing that his husband and son would ignore him. 

He tenses when a scream sounds from the basement, Logan quickly places the groceries on the floor before rushing downstairs. He takes the stairs two at a time and freezes when he reaches the bottom. 

“What are you doing!?”

“Now, what does it look like we’re doing star? You’ve got three guesses!” Remus exclaims. 

Logan watches as Virgil shuts the blow torch off, he couldn’t help but instinctively rub at his wrists due to phantom pains. He glances at Emile, the younger man’s face pinched with pain his face pale.

“M-My saviour, I thought we agreed that I would be taking care of Emile?”

Remus huffs and crosses his arms, Logan shifts uncomfortably and avoids his husband’s eyes. 

“We did, but you’re not exactly trying to help him realize that he loves our son. Now, you got one chance and one chance only star. Go back upstairs and put the groceries away, or we can demonstrate how a good soulmate should act. Choose wisely my precious star.” 

Logan swallows thickly and looks at Emile, he closes his eyes tight and takes a shuddering breath.

“I-I’m sorry…” Logan whispers before rushing back up the stairs, he slams the door behind him.

Logan winces when he hears Emile’s pained filled screams come from the basement, ‘ _Look what you caused!’_

Logan takes a shaky breath and steps away from the basement door, he picks the groceries up and goes into the kitchen. 

“I-It’ll be different next time… I promise…” 

Patton sighs as he knocks on Desmond’s door, he had been at this for at least half an hour, when Roman said that Desmond would oversleep he meant it. Patton goes to knock again only for the door to swing open. 

Standing in the threshold was an annoyed Desmond, he only wore a pair of pale yellow pajama pants, his chest bare, Patton couldn’t help but notice the slight rope burns on the older detective’s wrists. Desmond’s hair fell over his right eye as he silently glared up at Patton, really Patton didn’t know how such a short person could look intimidating. Well, he supposes Desmond wasn’t _that_ short. 

“Dude, I get that my body is pretty appealing but could you not stare, it’s creepy.” 

Patton felt his face heat up as he made eye-contact with Desmond, the older detective having a smirk on his face. 

“T-That- I wasn’t- we’re running late! I-It’s almost eleven!” 

He can see the way Desmond’s body manages a sort of collective groan - the man’s shoulders sloop, his head goes back as his eyes shut in some sort of pained expression, and he bends at the waist, making him almost two full inches shorter.

How different from his own Romeo, who, upon being told he had overslept, would puff his chest out and perk up as a sudden burst of panic-fuelled energy hit his system. Desmond’s reaction was nowhere near as sexy, as far as Patton was concerned. Oh, he couldn’t wait to see Roman’s first overslept reaction from the other side of the bed, rather than from the other side of the window.

“Give me half a minute. Grab me some chocolate - I keep the good stuff in the old honey jar.”

With that, Desmond sprints off, leaving Patton with not much to do _but_ go search for the “old honey jar”. He closes the door behind him as he enters the messy apartment. Three unopened packages by the door, a pile of unwashed laundry right _next_ to the washing machine, and a jar that contains...something...by a visibly dirty window.

“Dad would make Papa burn if he let home get this bad,” he mumbles to himself, debating whether he wanted to go through the kitchen cupboards. What if they were as bad as the rest of the house?

Patton glances at the perfectly clean stovetop, and wonders if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Did you lurk in my kitchen the entire time I was changing?”

Patton jumps, turning to see an unimpressed Desmond, and quickly tries to argue about the state of the place.

“It’s fine,” Desmond shrugs, “It’s usually better than this...since my brother got taken...and even before that, we’d had this argument, and, well…”

Desmond sighs heavily, and as much as Patton wants to ask more about it, he knows it’ll only end up sparking suspicion. And he’d rather not so early on. Desmond would try to keep him from his Romeo, and then Patton would have to kill him…

Which was fine, but Virgil would get annoyed if he killed his brother’s future brother in law so unnecessarily.

“Let’s just go,” Desmond says before Patton can consider a response of his own.

“What about your chocolate?” 

Desmond waves his hand dismissively and walks out of the apartment forcing Patton to follow suit. 

“I’ll pick some up on the way to work, we’re already late and might as well take our time.” 

Patton grimaces, ‘ _Why couldn’t I have gotten a job with my Romeo?’_ Patton blinks when he’s halfway down the walkway and realizes that Desmond was no longer next to him. He could have sworn that the older detective began walking next to him after locking his filthy home up. Patton turns towards the door and furrows his brows. 

Patton watched as Desmond locked and unlocked his door two times before finally locking it on the third time. 

Desmond pockets his keys and walks towards Patton while whistling a cheery tune, “Well, let’s go the faster I get chocolate the longer you live.” 

‘ _Interesting…’_

“I’m sorry…” Logan mutters as he gently cleans the burn wounds around Emile’s wrists. The young therapist refuses to look at him, choosing to stare down at his lap instead. 

“I know I didn’t do anything… but I promise that I’ll keep you safe this time.” 

Emile snorts and looks up at Logan, his green eyes rung in red, “S-Sure you will…” 

Logan sighs as he gently wraps Emile’s wrists in gauze, he couldn’t blame Emile for being upset with him. Logan had run away like a coward, but he couldn’t go against his husband, not during training. 

“...Virgil likes cute things,” Logan says, after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t care.”

“No - I mean - he will - if you _act_ cute, you won’t...he won’t hurt you as much. It’s why he...likes you.”

Emile raises an eyebrow, wincing as Logan finishes his left wrist. He didn’t care what Virgil liked. But if Logan was right…

“Why should I trust you?” Emile asks, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “You just keep telling me to give up and accept my fate as - whatever the fuck a soulmate is meant to be-”

Logan pauses and then bites his lip before replying, “it’s just what the family refers to their romantic partners. It would be ok if they didn’t...well, take what they wanted instead of…”

Logan trails off, and Emile watches as Logan fixes up his right wrist with better skill than most nurses he knew. His hands shake slightly, but he’s quick and adept with it. Even if this man hasn’t been helpful, Emile can’t help but feel bad.

“Forget it...sorry for-”

“Don’t be!”

Emile blinks at the urgency in his voice, almost pleading. 

“...I’m trying,” Logan whispers, so quiet Emile almost misses the words, “I’m trying to help you. I am. You can’t escape from this family. Even if you were to get away, Sir would find you. And you’d regret it.”

“You’re wrong-”

“ _Don’t!_ ”

For the first time since Emile arrived, Logan’s voice is forceful, the man shaking, jaw clenched, eyes threatening to water.

“Don’t - don’t you dare ignore me like that - I’m _trying_ to help you, Emile. I’m trying to help you stay as safe as possible. Don’t tell me I’m wrong. Don’t dismiss me like that. Just...stop acting like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Emile stares as Logan breathes deeply.

“...I-”

“Star!!”

Logan winces at Remus’ interruption, and Emile tenses up as said man walks into the room, grabbing Logan by the arm tight enough for Emile to notice how truly stick-thin Logan is.

“Y-Yes, my saviour?” Logan asks quietly, meek again.

“My uncle wants to talk to you - it’s about when you’re next available - I told him maybe later this month, but he wants to talk to you himself.”

Emile noticed how Logan grew tense, it was obvious that he wanted to say no, but he didn’t. Logan simply bowed his head and stepped into the other room. 

Emile bites his lip and moves over to the door, pressing up against the wall to keep from being seen. 

_“S-Sir, I um… I’m not sure if I can be er… F-Free soon, Virgil’s brought his soulmate home a-and I’m helping him get settled in.”_

Emile grimaces at the word soulmate, honestly couldn’t they call him something else?

“ _I… I-I suppose I can be free this weekend… It’s only for this weekend right? N-No! I-I wasn’t getting an at-yes sir… s-see you Friday…”_

Emile blinks and leans out a bit, Logan shook from head to toe as Remus snatched the phone from him, absently waving him away. Emile quickly moves back to his place on the kitchen counter, trying to pretend that he wasn’t listening in. 

“D-Don’t try and act like you’re innocent, I have two sons. I knew you were eavesdropping.” 

Emile pouts and looks down, “Sorry… Um… but you’re leaving? W-What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” 

Logan sighs and takes a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Survive, j-just do what I said okay? Act cute, k-keep yourself safe from punishments. I’ll be home before you know it, I-I promise…” 

Patton could easily say that he didn’t like working with Desmond, well, no, he didn’t mind working with the older detective, he just didn’t like his driving. Patton was left clinging to the ‘oh shit’ bar the whole time Desmond was driving to the crime scene for their new case. Or at least that was where they were supposed to go. Patton squeaks when the car comes to a sudden stop, he groans and looks out the window, they were at the health centre. 

“I thought we were going to the new crime scene?” 

“We are, I just need to pick something of Emile’s up, you can just stay in here I won’t be long.” 

Patton goes to argue that they were already in trouble for being late, but he was met with Desmond slamming the car door shut. Patton groans and rubs his face, “If it wasn’t for my Romeo or keeping you from getting suspicious I’d have my uncle kill you.” 

Desmond walks around the lot where Emile was taken, he only had a couple of minutes to search the area before the woman who was robbed contacts, Captain Craine, about his absence. Desmond walks around the lot, looking behind bushes to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Desmond blinks when something silver wedged between the sewer grates catches his eye. He steps over the bushes and walks over to it, a silver flip phone was caught between the grates. Desmond carefully pulls the phone free and flips it open. He curses softly when he sees that the screen is cracked. 

“It’s a good thing Alvin owes me a favour.” 

Desmond pockets the phone and does another full scan when nothing else stands out he heads back to his car. He frowns when he notices Patton sifting through his glove box. Desmond bangs on the driver’s side window, laughing when he scares the younger man into looking up. He gets into the car and snorts. 

“Dude, if you’ve got questions about me then ask. Don’t be a freak and look through my stuff, alright?” 

Desmond snorts when Patton blushes in embarrassment. 

“S-Sorry…” 

“Eh, it’s alright. Now let’s go show Mrs. Everly that it’s her grandson who’s been robbing her blind.” 

Patton blinks and tilts his head, “How do you know that?” 

“Because I bought her panini maker off of him last week for twenty bucks.” 

Patton stares at Desmond for several minutes before letting out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Hey! You sigh just like how the captain does!” Desmond exclaims as he starts the car, Patton quickly braces himself when the older detective skids out of the parking lot. 

‘ _Jesus take the fucking wheel.’_

Emile stands in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, he nervously fidgets with his skirt as he watches Virgil flick through the television. It was just him and Virgil at the moment, Patton still at work, and Remus and Logan were upstairs doing god know what. Emile takes a shaky breath and steps into the living room sitting next to Virgil on the couch. 

“My… M-My saviour? May I watch some cartoons? Please?” 

Emile tenses when Virgil snakes his arm around his waist, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. ‘ _Be cute, be cute.’_

“Hmm, how about a kiss, bunny and I’ll let you watch whatever cartoon you want.” 

Emile forces himself to not grimace, instead of forcing himself to think of Roman. He imagines his boyfriend’s smile and the way his eyes burn after a certain kiss. Emile relaxes when he feels his face heat up, he looks up at Virgil giving his best shy expression. 

“I-I believe I can do that my saviour.” Emile replies, letting his hair fall in his face as an attempt to ‘hide’ his blush. 

Virgil grins as he presses a gentle but firm kiss to Emile’s lips, causing the young therapist to internally cringe as he tries his best to reciprocate. 

“You’re so cute… my precious little bunny.” Virgil mumbles against Emile’s lips as he steals another kiss before pulling completely away. 

Emile forces a smile as he snuggles up to Virgil, trying his best to stay on his captor's good side. 

“Now, what cartoon do you want to watch?” 

Desmond leaves Patton behind at their joint desk, telling him to deal with the paperwork of booking Mrs. Everly’s grandson. Desmond didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with a kid who thought it was a good idea to steal off of his own grandmother, nor did he really have the energy to keep dragging Patton on. As if he’d really buy stolen merchandise, he had to admit though, the look on Patton’s face was priceless. 

Desmond jogs downstairs to the forensics lab where his favourite techie was sure to be at. He throws the doors open in dramatic fashion and grins, Alvin sighs and gives him a fond smile as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s not your break time, so I’m guessing you’re here on business this time?” 

Desmond smirks and walks in, leaning against the forensics table, keeping his head propped up with his hand. 

“Darling, what we do during my break time _is_ business, but I’m not here for that kind of business! I actually have some evidence for you to look at.” 

Alvin snorts and mimics Desmond’s stance, “Is this business you tied up, or is this _actual_ forensic business?” 

“That was one time! Besides, the rope was forensic we tested out if my victim was telling the truth or not about her husband tied her up, which we did!” 

“Yeah, after I had you bent over this very table.” 

Desmond felt his face heat up, allowing a dopey grin to fall across his face. “Yeah… But seriously, it’s nothing like that. I found an old flip phone at the place my brother was taken from, I need you to take a look at it.” 

“I thought you were taken off of his case? Des, you know I can’t take anything pertaining to a case you’re not a part of.” 

“I was and well, you owe me, remember? After I covered for your ass so you could go to your daughter’s recital? I’m cashing in that favour, this can be off the record no one has to know.” 

Alvin hesitates for a moment, he gives in with a sigh when Desmond juts out his bottom lip in a pout. 

“Alright, fine. Give me an hour, maybe two, alright?” 

Desmond perks up and throws his arms around Alvin, pressing a kiss to the techie's cheek before slipping the phone into his right hand. 

“Thank you! We’ll just keep this between us, alright?” 

Desmond hums as he turns to leave the room, a startled squeak leaves his mouth when he runs into Patton. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. 

“What were ya doing in there?” 

“Do you really wanna know?” 

Patton makes a face and sighs heavily. 

“ _Sure.”_

“I was on my knees, thought I deserved a snack,” Desmond replies as he wiggles his eyebrows.

Patton lets out another long sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose, causing his glasses to push up into his hair a bit. 

Desmond smirks, “I’m fucking with you, Pat, it’s not break time yet. I just turned in some evidence.” 

“There wasn’t any evidence at Mrs. Everly’s though?” 

“No, this was evidence from another case I was working. Heyy, break time is actually coming up you wanna go out and get lunch? My treat! It’s the least I can do for giving you such a hard time.” 

Patton fixes his glasses back over his eyes and cocks an eyebrow. 

“You being weird, is giving me a hard time?” 

“That’s not being weird! I don’t get weird until you really get to know me.” 

Desmond grins at Patton’s unamused expression as he pulls the younger male back upstairs. He ignores Patton’s complaints. 

“If you have lunch with me I’ll let you leave early. Roman won’t be home but you could wait for him, if we’re going to be working together we need to get to know each other better.” 

Patton sighs as he drowns a french fry in ketchup, he scrunches up his face when Desmond dips a chicken nugget into his vanilla milkshake. He watches as the older detective pops the treat into his mouth, eating it like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. 

“So, what made you want to work with the police? My reasoning was because I wanted to keep kids safe, didn’t want them to go through the shit I went through.” 

Patton raises his eyebrow, ‘ _Family troubles, hm?’_

“I suppose the same as you. My biological parents were neglectful, I’d hate for kiddos to go through anything like that.” 

Desmond nods and takes a sip of his milkshake, Patton shifts uncomfortably in his chair as blue and brown eyes stare at him, _‘Why does this feel familiar?’_

“Yeah, your biological parents were a real piece of work. Tabitha and Albert Talbot, right?” 

Patton feels himself grow tense, his blue eyes widening as he stares at Desmond. The older detective smirks slightly as he drinks more of his milkshake. 

“Don’t worry, no one else knows about them. Dad was abusive and mum was neglectful, I can sympathize with that.” 

“How did you-.” 

“How did I find out? Easy, just a simple background check. Well, it started out like that but had to make extra sure you were an okay guy. I ended up stumbling upon your parents' cases, I’m not going to hold anything they did over you.” 

Patton goes to argue that this was invading his privacy, but Desmond catches him off guard by standing up. 

“We can pick this up tomorrow, thanks for joining me for lunch, Pat.” 

Patton watches as the older detective walks out of the fast-food restaurant, he breathes deeply and rests his head against his hands. 

‘ _What the hell just happened?’_

Desmond rushes down the stairs leading to the forensic lab, he throws the doors open, effectively startling Alvin. 

“Your two hours are up! Whatcha got for me on the phone?” 

Alvin sighs and rubs his eyes under his glasses, “I was about to call you, ya know. But… I found some text messages, no fingerprints, which makes me glad that you always wear those yellow gloves. The messages are… weird to say the least. Whoever this was really kept an eye on your brother.” 

Desmond snatches the copies of the text messages from him, he reads over them, his eyebrows furrowing after reading each one. 

“Why didn’t he tell me…” 

“Scared most likely, Des… but I have the location of the store that it was purchased from.” 

Desmond breathes deeply through his nose before slowly letting it out through his mouth. 

“Where?” 

“A Best Buy close to the beach.” 

Desmond throws himself at Alvin, wrapping the techie into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, I seriously owe you one.” 

Desmond leaves with a rushed good-bye, he jogs up the steps with only one thing on his mind. 

‘ _I’m so close, Emi, just hold on little bro…’_


	6. Chains and Whips (Don't) Excite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm hilarious with this title-

_April 2, 2012_

Emile is stressed, well really stressed was an understatement, but it was the only word that could be used. While Logan was away he had to do everything the older man did, he had to cook, clean, and make sure the three Holter’s were happy. Emile didn’t understand how Logan did it and he’s not going to try to because thankfully it was Sunday and Logan would be coming home soon. He just hoped that Logan would be okay, he remembers how the man was fidgeting around nervously, mumbling about how he hoped his ‘sir’ wasn’t in a foul mood. 

Emile jumps when the mug he was cleaning falls from his hand, the dark green ceramic scattering over the white-tiled kitchen floor. Emile tenses when he realises which cup he dropped. It was the mug, Virgil had made Remus when he was a kid, it was Remus’ favourite _mug_ and he had just broken it. Emile drops to his knees and immediately begins to pick up the pieces, he stops when a pair of familiar pale hands with painted green nails grips his wrists. 

He looks up and sees Remus glaring at him, the demented man’s green eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“You stupid little, _bitch._ You had _one_ fucking job! Wash the dishes, not break them!” 

“I-It… I-It was an accident! I-I’ll clean it up I-I promise!” 

When Emile tries to pull away, the grip on his wrists tighten. Emile winces and bites the inside of his jaw to stifle a whimper. 

“My star doesn’t _make_ accidents and it’s obvious Virgil isn’t working with you enough. Don’t worry, we’ll fix this clumsiness of yours.” 

Emile lets out a startled squeak when Remus jerks him up from the floor, he tries to pull away again, but Remus’ grip was too tight. Part of him wishes Virgil was here, the past few days he’s been able to keep his captor wrapped around his finger, but no. He had been left here with Virgil’s demented father because Virgil had a tattoo appointment. 

Emile feels his anxiety rise when Remus pulls him towards the basement, he screams and tries to pull away again. Remus jerks the door open and throws Emile in, causing him to tumble down the stairs. He groans when he lands roughly at the bottom of the stairs, too disoriented to try and stand up and fight back against Remus.

“I was thinking we could go with whipping, that’s a favourite punishment of my stars!” 

‘ _I-I’m sorry…’_

Emile tries to sit up, but his head throbs and his vision blurs. It doesn’t even matter, because Remus grabs him by the arm, yanking him up and dragging him over to a wall. Emile stumbles and feels something cold around his wrists, a moment later pulled up, forced to stand on his tiptoes.

He groans slightly, the pain in his head increasing, feeling the room spin around him, almost thankful that he didn’t have to hold himself up. Almost. The fact that his wrists ached and metal seemed to tear into them didn’t make him feel thankful.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots some sort of camera being set up, a small red light seeming to indicate being turned on. But in his half-delirious state, he’s hardly sure he saw it at all.

“I imagine my star would tell you to relax,” Remus says, almost a sneer, almost soft, “it will hurt more if you tense up!”

Emile can’t help but tense up at that. He hears the swish of a whip through the air, then a loud crack as it hits his skin. He yells out as it does, the feel of lightning sharp pain echoing through his back, tearing through his shirt. He can feel the heated throbbing where his skin is lashed, burning like fire.

“I told you that you should relax!” Remus chides, and seems to pause, “or...did I? Hm, no, I said my star would say that…”

Emile whimpers, shaking as he tries to adjust himself as if that would do anything. He can’t do it anyway, the height of the chains is too much to do much more than hang or stay barely on his tiptoes like he was before.

Hanging would probably be more painful, right?

Who cared?

He was being whipped.

The next slash breaks the skin, the warmth of his blood dripping down his back standing out against the cold of the basement air. It burns more, and he lets out a sob, a strangled anguish-filled sob.

After enough hits the pain seems to ebb away, fading away into numbness.

And then Remus starts to pause between hits.

Each hit arrives just as the numbness fades again, and it makes Emile scream, crying desperately for Remus to stop, please!

And Remus doesn’t care, not ending the torture until Emile’s back is ripped into long, thin ribbons, the blood trailing down past the small of his back, dripping on the floor like a leaking pipe.

When he’s unchained, he collapses to the floor, no longer able to notice the pain in his head, not compared to the pain in his back. Remus simply tells him to return upstairs within the hour, and shortly after fussing with the camera in the corner of the room - so I did see that correctly - simply leaves.

Emile’s breathing is short, rapid, barely there, a fast but weak wheezing sound. He doesn’t know what will happen if he doesn’t get back upstairs within the hour, but his back hurts too much to move.

What would Logan do? Come on! He’d move, right?

Yes, but I’m not Logan.

He nonetheless slowly forces himself to sit upright, leaning against the cold wall for support. It comforts his back, the nerve endings seemingly on fire after the ordeal. He touches his back gingerly, wincing at the pain and the stickiness of the blood. At least the bleeding was slower now.

As he slowly forces himself to accept the reality he was in, he looks around, trying to catch his bearings. He hadn’t noticed the basement fully before. There were torture tools and - tools he didn’t want to know what were meant to be used for - alongside a chair and some sort of bed, both with medieval-style restraints.

Both were stained with a rusted colour that could only be dried blood. The bed didn’t have sheets, and the mattress looked stiff the fabric gross. Parts of it were stained yellow and brown and white, all covered with a variety of reds. Some of the blood was clearly fresher than others.

The chair was in a similar state but somehow worn, as if years of Logan struggling had worn away the exterior. There were remnants of sky blue paint, a colour too cheerful for Emile to fully process being in a place like this.

But what stood out the most now, was the bookshelves along the longer walls.

From the floor to the ceiling, each row only just big enough for the height of a video to be stored inside. And there were dozens of videos. More than dozens. They filled one side fully, and most of the other side.

Logan sighs as he shifts uncomfortably against the leather seats of the limousine he was forced into by his sir. His weekend had been horrible, being forced to attend parties, being passed around like some free for all sex doll. Or really he was passed around like some slut, considering that was his sir’s favourtie thing to call him. Logan supposes that’s what he is, that’s all he’s good for besides being a house husband. 

Logan sighs again and sinks down in his seat resting his head against the cool glass of the window. 

‘ _I really hope Emi is okay…’_

Logan groans as he struggles to push the door open, he’s told Remus time and time again that it needed to be fixed, but his husband never listened. Which, Logan never understood why it would jam on rainy days anyway, it made no sense. Well, Remus had a reason, his husband said the wood swells, but to Logan that still made no sense. Once the door his open, Logan stumbles inside. He sees his sons sitting on the couch, Emile sitting rigidly between them, some gorey movie playing on the television. 

Patton is the first to look over, he squeals in excitement as he hops up from the couch. Logan furrows his brows in confusion when his eldest son scoops him up into a hug, spinning him around as he does. 

“Not… That I don’t appreciate the warm welcome, Patton, but… Why?” Logan asks as he tries his best to return his son’s hug. 

Patton sets him back down and grins happily at his father. 

“Because! I’m just so happy that you’re home papa!” 

“He’s only happy because he missed your cooking, Bunny is terrible at it. You need to seriously teach him how to cook faster.” Virgil speaks up, shooting a glare at Emile who flinches at the look. Logan couldn’t help but notice the sharp intake of breath that Emile did after moving. 

Logan frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, “That’s not very nice, Virgil. Emile’s never cooked before, you have to give him time to learn.” 

“He burns eggs, papa, _eggs,”_ Patton replies. 

Logan rolls his eyes and moves to go into the kitchen, he’s stopped when Virgil places his hand in front of him. 

“Dad wants you to clean the basement, said that was the first thing he wanted you to do when you got home. He went out to get pizza, said he was tired of shitty food.” 

Logan sighs heavily, of course, he couldn’t have a moment's peace or a moment to check on Emile under the guise of teaching him how to cook. 

“Let me go get my cleaning supplies,” he mumbles as he turns and heads up the stairs. Logan always hated the fact that the laundry room was on the second floor, but he knew better than to complain. Logan didn’t miss the quiet whimper that left Emile’s mouth when the basement was mentioned. 

Logan sighs as he grabs a bucket, he fills it with water from the bathroom sink across from the laundry room, grabbing a sponge and pouring some bleach along with lavender-scented Lysol. 

‘ _What could he have done in the basement without me here?’_

Logan scrunches up his face in disgust, there was _one_ thing his husband could do in the basement, considering the multitude of videotapes that were down there. Some were just punishments others were… more explicit moments in their hellish lives. Logan sighs, he wishes he could have done something better in his life. 

He slowly makes his way down the basement steps, silently thanking his sir for allowing him to trade out his heels for simple ballet flats. Once at the bottom of the steps Logan flicks the lights on and hears himself gasp. He drops the bucket of water, causing some of the water to slosh out on the floor. 

Blood covered the center of the basement floor, a whip dripping with fresh blood hung on the left side of the wall. Logan glances back upstairs before looking at the horrible mess. He breathes deeply through his mouth and slowly lets it out. 

“It’s fine… Emile wasn’t down here.” He mumbles as he picks the bucket back up, he makes his way over to the messier part of the basement and sets the bucket down. He gets on his knees, groaning when his joints pop, ‘ _Damn rack…’_

Logan takes the sponge out of the buckets and begins to scrub the floor, he keeps telling himself that Emile wasn’t down here. His saviour just took his anger out on a stranger like he normally did while Logan was away. 

‘ _You know that isn’t true…’_

He shakes the thought away, dunking the sponge back into the water, rinsing it out before going back to scrub the floor. 

Logan glances over to the shelf that held various VHS tapes, ‘ _You already know that if Emile was punished it would be filmed, you need to check.’_

He shakes his head and focuses on scrubbing the floor. 

_‘Cowardly little star~.’_

Logan huffs and throws the sponge back into the bucket, he pushes himself up from the floor, his legs wobble slightly when he stands up straight. He takes a deep breath and moves over to the shelf. ‘ _He wasn’t punished damn it,’_ Logan thinks as he looks over the VHS tapes. 

His stomach drops when his eyes land on one tape, it was on a shelf completely by itself. 

‘ _Emile: Whipping 20 Lashes-Reason: Breaking a mug. 04/02/12.’_

Logan feels bile rise in his throat as he stares at the label, his husband’s familiar looping script written in a sparkly green pen. Logan didn’t have to watch the tape to know what would be on it. 

He jumps when a door upstairs slams shut, his husband loudly exclaiming that he comes home bearing edible food. For once in over twenty years of being held captive, Logan feels a burning anger form in his core. He balls his hands into fists, stomping up the basement steps.

Logan throws the door open, making sure not to slam it. He walks into the living room, seeing his husband and their children enjoying the pizza that was carelessly dropped onto the coffee table. 

“Star! Did you finish clea-.” 

“Can we talk? Privately in the kitchen, my saviour?” Logan interrupts, he ignores the glare Remus gives him, too angry to care. 

Remus huffs and stands from his armchair, grumbling about how rude Logan was as he walks into the kitchen with Logan trailing behind. 

Once they were alone, Logan did as his son says, ripped it off like a bandaid by asking: “Why did you punish, Emile?” 

Remus snorts and puts his hands on his hips, “Because he deserved it. I asked him to wash the dishes and he goes and breaks them like some kind of moron.” 

Logan clenches his jaw and breathes deeply, he wasn’t going to lash out, he was going to try and stay calm. 

“Remus, and yes I am calling you by your name, but Remus what you did to him was extreme for just breaking a mug. Hell, _I’ve_ broken a dish and you didn’t even punish me as bad as you did Emile.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, “He broke my favourite mug, the one Virgil made for me when he was twelve, remember? He had to learn his lesson.” 

“So you whip him, twenty times!? I saw what whip you used! You used the one with the barbs, that was too extreme!” 

Logan hated how his husband sighed and pretended to check his nails for dirt, Logan glared and smacked Remus’ hand down, not caring about the repercussions. 

“Don’t act like this isn’t a big deal!! You and Virgil are going too far, with his training, he can’t handle it! You two are going to kill him!” 

“Now, you’re just being dramatic star, we’re not going to kill him! I’ve done worse to you and you know it.” 

Logan bristles and tries his best to keep his calm, but he’s not able to. 

“I do know it! And that poor kid in there _deserves_ better! He deserves better just like how I deserved better!!” 

Remus stares at Logan before bursting into laughter. 

“You!? Deserving better? Please! You _have_ better star! And he will too, now stop complaining before you add more to the punishment you’re already getting.” 

Logan stumbles back when Remus pushes past him, he lowers his head before turning to his husband, he grabs Remus’ arm and pulls him back as hard as he can, yelling at him.

“You know what? Yes! Yes, I deserve better!” Logan yells, face red, “I have a fucking Ph.D. in Astrophysics! I was doing _well_ in life before you entered it and fucked everything up! I didn’t want to marry you, I didn’t even want to _date_ you!”

Emile ducks behind the doorway, just listening whilst his heart races. The twins peek out, bouncing in excitement.

“Papa’s gonna get _so_ punished,” Virgil says, 

Emile hears a loud smack, followed by silence. A few moments later, Logan lets out a sob, and Emile dares to peek out, looking over at the man. He sees a red handprint across his cheek and winces at the thought of how badly it was going to bruise.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t deserve shit, and you know it. Now apologise to me, or I’m dragging you into the basement by your hair.”

Silence, and then Logan softly whispers an apology.

“Louder.”

“...I-I’m sorry…”

“Say it again, properly this time.”

“...I’m sorry, m-my saviour…”

Remus grins widely, and kisses Logan firmly, gripping the man tightly by the chin, and pressing fingers into the rapidly bruising mark.

“Good little star…”

Emile doesn’t look any longer. He can’t. He doesn’t want Logan to be hurt like this. And he doesn’t want to end up like that. He doesn’t want to apologise for standing up for himself, and he doesn’t want to be beaten and bruised. And the idea of being kissed like that by Virgil makes his stomach turn.

The next morning Logan made sure to apply extra foundation to cover the bruise the smack had left. He woke Emile earlier this time so he could clean the wounds on his back left from the whip, Logan couldn’t help but wince at how they look. He was glad they didn’t need any stitches. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t here to help…” Logan mumbles to Emile watching the younger man slowly flip a pancake. 

“It’s… It’s fine… I’m sorry I didn’t help you last night…” 

Logan waves away the apology as he turns back to cutting up some fruit to go onto the pancakes. 

“It’s alright… You would have gotten hurt and I’d hate for you to get hurt over me.” 

They both turn to the door when they hear someone rush in, Patton rushes over fully clothed, throwing some toast into the toaster. 

“Why are you up so early? Isn’t it your day off?” Logan asks. 

“Yes, and I’m up cause I’m meeting my Romeo for breakfast at nine, it’s already eight-thirty.” 

Emile takes the frying pan with pancakes off of the stove and slowly puts it with the others that he made. 

“If you’re having breakfast with this, Romeo guy then why are you making toast?” Emile asks as he pours the last of the pancake batter in his pan. 

“Because I get bitchy if I don’t eat, now be a good soulmate and mind your damn business.” 

Emile wants to say something snarky but bites his tongue. He didn’t feel like having an argument so early in the morning, nor did he feel like possibly getting the cuts on his back reopened so early. 

Patton huffs hatefully as he grabs his toast, haphazardly smearing grape jelly on the toasted bread. He leaves without another word, slamming the front door behind him causing Emile and Logan to flinch at the noise. 

“You’ll get used to his mood swings…” 

“He seems like he’s got some type of mood disorder, have you guys had either of them diagnosed? Because before well… this… Patton was seeing my boss, well the head psychiatrist, for depression.” 

Logan pauses in his fruit cutting and furrows his brows in confusion, he turns to look at Emile. 

“I wasn’t aware he had depression… Neither of them talks to me, they prefer Remus…” 

Emile nods as he flips his last pancake. 

“I figured… Ya know my brother can flip these things without a spatula. I remember when he was first trying to learn, so many pancakes ended up on the ceiling.” 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head as he puts the last of the fruit into a bowl. He gently pushes Emile to the side, scooping out the pancake for him putting it with the others. 

“Your brother sounds like a real catch. What’s he like?” 

Logan notices how Emile perks up when asked about his brother, it was obvious to him that Emile really looks up to his older brother. 

“He’s great!! A little hotheaded, but he’s a funny guy! He raised me after our mum died when I was twelve and he was sixteen, well really he raised me beforehand too. Our mum was always sick… but Dee never let that bring him down! He took care of me and himself… I really miss him…” 

Logan sighs and gently pulls him into a hug, he holds Emile close gently rubbing his back. 

“B-Before I was taken he and I had this stupid argument… and it was about his driving to beat it all…” 

Logan tenses when he hears Emile sniffle, the younger man chokes back a sob as he grips Logan’s shirt tight. 

“N-Now that I’m t-thinking about it… H-He probably doesn’t e-even care that I was taken…” 

Logan looks down at him in shock, just the other day Emile was boasting how his brother was going to find him, but now this? 

“What makes you think that, Emi?...” 

“B-Because!! O-One time when I-I was fifteen, D-Dee… H-He had this incident a-and I was being too overbearing and pushy and… and he snapped at me… s-saying he wouldn’t care if I was ever t-taken…” 

Logan winces at Emile’s distressing words. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean them… Emi can you do me a favour? Breath in for four, hold for seven, and let out for eight, okay?” Logan asks gently, Emile nods sniffling as he tightens his hold on Logan’s shirt, doing as he’s told. 

Once Emile is calmed down, Logan gently pushes him away and holds him at arm’s length. He offers him a gentle smile and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“He didn’t mean it… I’m sure he’s very worried about you, Emi… Like you said… he’s… he’s going to find you. Now, how about you go ahead and serve yourself some pancakes? After you eat you can go and watch those cartoons you like.” 

Later that morning, after Remus has gone to work Logan asks for Virgil to sit with him in the kitchen for a moment, leaving Emile alone in the living room to watch television. 

“What? I want to cuddle with my soulmate, not talk to you, papa.” Virgil huffs as he sits on the countertop. 

Logan sighs as he dries the dishes, “I’m sure you can spare a second, Virgil. I was wanting to disclose some information that Emile shared with me this morning.” 

Virgil perks up, leaning closer as if his papa was about to share some juicy gossip with him. 

“Is it his dick size? Please tell me it is.” 

Logan makes a face, “No, and that’s disgusting, but you’ll be happy to know it is a… kink thing so to speak. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term, ‘DDLG’ right?” 

“Yeah? What about it, wait how do _you_ know about it?” 

“That’s not important right now, anyway, Emile told me that he was… a quote on quote, ‘little’ I’m sure that term is used within that community.” 

Virgil frowns and stuffs his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“What’re you getting at, papa?” 

Logan sighs as he sets the dishes down, “What I am ‘getting at’ Virgil is that Emile needs to be handled with care because he’s more childlike than you think. If you want results then you’ll need to treat him like a um… _daddy_ would.” 

Virgil blinks his hazel eyes in surprise before glancing over to the doorway that separated the kitchen and living room when he hears Emile laugh at the cartoon he is watching.

“And you’re sure about that?” 

“I’m as sure as a… as a decapitated moose as your father likes to say.” 

Logan watches as his son mulls the information over, Virgil relaxes slightly with a sigh. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll try it.” 

Patton rushes up Roman’s walkway, silently praying that his Romeo was still home. He was four minutes late and that in his opinion wasn’t very gentlemen like, Patton takes a moment to breathe before knocking on the redhead's door. Relief floods through him when Roman opens the door, the pretty redhead flashes him a small smile. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m late! I told my papa to wake me up but he must have forgotten.” 

“It’s alright, I uh changed our plans anyway. I hope that’s okay, we’re going to head over to Des’ for breakfast. I’ve been worried about him since he called me upset yesterday.” 

Patton almost feels his smile drop at the mention of going to Desmond’s but he forces it to stay up. Surely his Romeo knew how disgusting the older man’s home was? Why would he want to go there for food? 

“Of course! He did seem quite upset over the phone didn’t he?” Patton asks as he steps out of the way, allowing Roman to move fully outside. He watches as Roman closes the door behind him clicking the lock in place. 

“Yeah… Said something about evidence being a bust… Normally Emi goes and spends the day with him when he’s had a bad one, Dee gets into fights a lot when he’s mad.” 

Patton raises his eyebrow in question, when Roman decides to leave it at that by walking ahead Patton decides to probe a little after all Desmond _was_ his work partner. 

“Why does he get into fights?” 

“He just does… Always has, I personally don’t like being around him when he’s angry but Emi would want me to make sure his brother didn’t do anything reckless.” 

Patton frowns, he knew that it wasn’t easy to scare his Romeo, so that meant Desmond had done something. 

“Well, let's not talk about him then! Why don’t ya tell me more about yourself, hm?” 

Roman visibly relaxes and flashes Patton a small smile, “Sure but only if you do the same.” 

“Oh! I know, let's play twenty questions, I’ll go first. What’s your parent's name?” 

Roman chuckles and nudges Patton’s arm. 

“Starting out big, huh? My mum’s name is Thalia and my dad’s name is Felix, I’d tell you my biological parents' names but I never learned them. What about yours? What’s your parent's name?” 

“My mother’s name was Tabitha. She died when my brother and I were three and our dad’s name is Albert. Now our adoptive dad’s names are Remus and Logan, I only see them as our real parents the other two weren’t fit for the title really.” 

Roman looks at him and gives him a sad smile, “I’m sorry… But hey! We’re adoption besties!” 

“Yeah… What’s your favourite Disney movie?” 

Emile noticed that something was off, the house quiet save for Virgil’s humming and Logan’s washing up in the kitchen. The house felt tense, as if something bad was going to happen. Emile shakes his head and takes a breath, ‘ _I’m just imagining things…’_

Logan stands rigid at the sink, he’s spent the last ten minutes washing the same plate. The atmosphere in the house was off, it was a type of off that he knew all to familiar. Remus was upset, Logan breathes deeply through his nose as he tries to ignore the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. 

‘ _I can make it better… I have to make it better…’_


	7. Deal or No Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHAA..THIS IS-...Late- but hey look! INJURIES~!

_April 4, 2012_

The walk to Desmond’s was peaceful, Patton and Roman got to know each other better. Like Patton got to know that Roman’s mother owned her own bakery, something he already knew because he’s visited the bakery quite a bit as a way to learn about Mrs. Blake. Roman got to know that Patton attended the same school as he and Emile. Patton learned that Roman’s parents lived on the same street as his papa and dad, he already knew that considering he had followed his Romeo thereafter Emile first went off to college. Patton remembers how he wanted to wipe away his Romeo’s tears because he was sad about his and Emile’s breakup. 

Patton hesitates at Desmond’s door, Roman’s hand raised to knock. Patton moved to pull his hand away, but was too late as Roman knocked on the door. He groans when he hears Desmond call that he was coming, Patton honestly didn’t want to go into the detectives disgusting apartment, but there was no turning back now. 

Desmond opens the door, this time fully dressed in a dark grey t-shirt, yellow cotton gloves, black jeans, and a yellow beanie. 

Patton blinks, he looks at the gloves on the older man’s hands. He opens his mouth to say something but Roman beats him to it. 

“This a no touching day or?” 

“Ah… No, I uh… trying not to bite my nails… Also I see that look Patton, you’ll be happy to know that my place is back to its spotless self.” 

Patton feels his face flush, he tries to argue that’s not what he was thinking but his cut off by Desmond raising his hand. 

“Don’t lie to me, I raised Emile and I’m a detective I know when people are lying. Now both of you come in, shoes off and on the rack, no negotiating.” 

Patton remains hesitant to enter the apartment, remembering how awful it was the last time he was in here, but reluctantly agrees once he sees Roman enter. He didn’t want to look bad in front of his Romeo, after all.

However, to his amazement, it didn’t look bad. In fact, it was spotless, as if someone had magicked the mess away. He finds himself peeking into the kitchen, staring at how even the fridge seemed to shine.

“How did you-”

“When I’m not busy overthinking how my brother has been kidnapped, I clean. ...I had extra time today so I caught up,” Desmond explains, clearly unenthused. “This is how it _usually_ is. How it _should_ be.”

“You clean better than my papa,” Patton admits, briefly wondering whether his father would want to know that it was possible for their house to be even cleaner.

_Probably shouldn’t tell him. Papa does a good enough job as it is, I don’t really want him to have to do even more work._

“If he’s a decent cleaner, I’ll have to meet him sometime,” Desmond jokes.

“Maybe!” Patton says, as if he really believed Desmond would be allowed to meet his parents. He may be Emile’s brother, but he also knew there was a reason why he’d never met his Papa’s parents. Which was fine, of course, he didn’t care much for that side of his family…

But he also knew that it meant Desmond’s odds of survival were low.

“Moving on,” Roman comments, “we eating lunch here or out?”

Right, the reason for being here. Roman and Desmond were having lunch together, and Patton had been invited. Because why wouldn’t he? His Romeo was going, so he _should_ be going with him.

“Out,” Desmond says honestly, “I don’t feel like cooking today. Want some coffee first though? I don’t want you to have come all the way here for nothing.”

In Patton’s ideal world, Roman would have offered to do the cooking, but he didn’t. Which was fine.

Patton would change that sort of thing in time.

“Now if you mix in the flour-”

Emile was busy learning to cook. He wasn’t even fully sure what he was making, just that Logan was telling him what to do, and stepping in whenever he was about to mess up. It was a better method than when his brother tried to teach him to cook.

_“Just - you know - do it!”_

_“That’s not an instruction!”_

Emile chuckles slightly, earning a slight frown from Logan.

“This isn’t a joke,” Logan says, tutting slightly, “if you don’t learn to cook, then we’ll both end up in trouble.”

“Don’t remind me,” Emile says with a sigh, “have I mixed the flour properly?”

“Almost - oh, when you’ve finished mixing, can you do the dishes?”

Emile looks over to the sink, and the pile of dishes next to it. Logan’s insistence that only fancy meals with multiple steps had led to many needing a wash. He didn’t understand it. Or maybe he did, with how unimpressed Virgil had looked when Emile suggested cereal for breakfast.

“I can, yeah…”

Logan sighs with relief and smiles warmly.

“Thank you. It’s nice to not have to do all this alone.”

Logan takes the mixture from Emile’s hands gently, scooping parts out onto a baking tray, and Emile is reminded how surreal the situation really was. Especially Logan’s part in it.

“Don’t your sons ever help?” he asks, walking over and getting the water running.

“Not really,” Logan admits, “when they were younger I could convince them to tidy their bedrooms. But my saviour said that I was expecting them to do a soulmate’s job...which is...well, ridiculous...it’s not like we’re a separate species.”

Emile just nods, working on getting the grease off a frying pan. From the way the Holters talked, it felt like they believed they really were a separate species. One that didn’t need to eat or sleep. Emile had never been expected to have such small portions. If not for Logan cooking extra for the pair to eat when the others weren’t around, Emile would be struggling a lot more.

He understood why Logan was so thin.

“When did you adopt them?” Emile asks, changing the topic.

“When they were five. A couple of weeks after my saviour and I got married…”

Emile tries to remember if Virgil or Patton had mentioned their ages. He doesn’t think they did. Logan seems to pick up on it, and chuckles.

“They’re a few years younger than you. Both are twenty-four. So nineteen years ago.”

Emile goes rigid. Nineteen years. Logan had been married to Remus, dealing with this treatment, for _nineteen years_.

“...How are you, well...okay?” Emile asks, and immediately wishes he hadn’t, because the atmosphere goes from warm to ice cold.

Logan doesn’t answer, just seems to focus harder on the boiling water in the pan, as if by some miracle it might come to life and save them from their captors.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“No, it’s… It’s fine. Honestly… I’m not okay, I’m less than okay… but I’m not going to have a breakdown, I can’t afford to, not with you here, not when I can set things right by protecting you.” Logan replies as he adds the noodles the two of them made earlier that day. 

Emile pauses with his scrubbing and looks at Logan, “Well… I appreciate that, when… When my brother comes for me, I’ll get him to save you too I promise.” 

Logan breathes deeply and flashes Emile a small smile. 

“I’ll hold you to that…” 

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, at least that’s what Emile tries to tell himself. The atmosphere of the house has been tense since this morning, or really it’s been tense since Logan and Remus’ fight last night. Emile sighs and focuses on the dishes, wanting to ignore the dread that settled over the Holter household. 

“Star! Virgil gave me a wonderful idea!” 

The atmosphere in the kitchen grows heavier when Remus walks in, completely ignoring Emile in favour of tugging Logan away from the stove by his wrist. Emile glances over, pretending to scrub a baking sheet clean. He grimaces when he sees Remus lick the inside of Logan’s left wrist, over the initials that was carved into Logan’s skin. 

Logan shudders and makes a face, “W-What was this idea my saviour?” 

“Well, our Stormcloud told me that skin carvings were lame, so he offered to sketch out a design and tattoo my initials on you instead!” 

Emile watches as Remus strokes his fingers over Logan’s palm, intently staring at the older man’s hand. 

“Let Emile watch what’s on the stove. We’re getting your tattoo done because I don’t want to wait any longer.” 

Logan tries to argue, only to be cut off when his husband drags him out of the kitchen. Logan deflates with a sigh, knowing that it would be pointless to argue against Remus. 

“You’re right-handed, right Star?” 

“Um… Yes? W-Why do you ask?” 

Remus hums as he shoves Logan onto the couch where Virgil was waiting, his tattooing equipment warmed up and sitting on the coffee table. 

“No, reason.” 

Virgil gently takes Logan’s left wrist, cleaning right below the initials carved into his skin. The youngest Holter offers his papa a smile. 

“This won’t hurt, promise papa it’ll just feel weird.” 

Logan tenses when Virgil begins to sketch out the design on his wrist, for once he was going to trust his son. He winces when the tattoo machine starts, there was a small bit of pain, but it didn't last long enough to say that it truly hurt him. 

Within half an hour the tattoo was finished, Logan had to admit that it looked good. The structure of the R being in black ink while the inside was filled in with an emerald green color. 

It almost didn’t hurt to look at it. Perhaps Logan was becoming numb to the lack of control over his body. What was a tattoo compared to a scar any more? He ignores the thought, however, and looks up at his son.

“This… Is amazing, Virgil. You’re really getting good at this, good job.” 

Logan missed how his son beamed at the praise due to Remus tugging him back into the kitchen. 

“I want dinner to be finished in an hour, Patty will be home by then and I want us all to eat as a family.” 

Roman and Desmond sit in Desmond’s living room, Patton left early, something about a family dinner that he needed to attend to. The silence that fell between them was heavy, Desmond breathes deeply and taps against his left knee, his fingers going ring, middle, and index over and over again. 

“You remember how I said the evidence I had was a bust?” 

Roman looks over at Desmond, trying his best to ignore how the older man tapped.

“Yes?” 

“It was evidence for Emi’s case… A prepaid cell phone. I thought… I thought I finally had something, Ro, but I didn’t. There were fingerprints but they weren’t in the database, no DNA and no ID on who bought it… just… I thought I finally had something.” 

Roman watches as Desmond drags his gloved hands through his hair. He’s never seen the older man this upset, well, he has once before but that wasn’t important. Roman sighs and moves over to Desmond, he holds off from touching him. 

“It will get better, Dee… you’ll find him and he’ll come back to us safe.” 

Desmond takes a shaky breath and blinks back the tears that formed in his bicoloured eyes. 

“I hope you’re right…” 

Emile sits rigid between the twins, dinner was in full swing, the tense atmosphere somehow getting worse. Emile pushes his food around on his plate, honestly to him it felt like all the times his brother and mother got into arguments. Everything always feels tense and icky. 

It was obvious to the young therapist that Logan was feeling the same, the older man was tense as he forced himself to eat. 

“This is really good papa! Are you sure Emile helped you with this?” Patton exclaims, Emile glares at him and huffs. 

“I’m sure, Patton… With a little help, Emile is a decent cook.” 

Emile flashes Logan an offended look, earning himself a sly smile from the older man. 

“Well, either way, star, you’ve really outdone yourself! Now, be a dear and pass the salt?” 

Emile watches as Logan passes the salt, what happens next seems to go in slow motion. Remus pins Logan’s left hand to the table, causing the salt shaker to clang against the wood, a startled gasp leaves Emile’s mouth as Remus stabs a steak knife through Logan’s hand. 

Logan stares at his hand with wide eyes, his jaw slack. The silence in the dining room is broken by Logan’s screams when Remus suddenly twists the knife. Emile scrambles to cling to Virgil when the sound of bones cracking happen after the knife is twisted. Logan’s screaming grows worse by the second as the older man falls from his chair and onto the floor, his arm being held up by the knife. 

“You know what, my precious star, you need to learn to _shut your mouth_ ,” Remus growls, twisting the knife the other way as Logan screams louder, body limp and weak. “You deserve better, _huh?_ Because of your fancy Ph.D.? You think you’re _better_ because a piece of paper claims you are? Well, news flash _darling,_ you’re not.”

Logan sobs and pleads to be let go, voice weak, and barely there. Everything hurt, his shoulder was being pulled on by the weight of his limp body, the knife felt ready to rip through his hand, and almost everyone he knew was hearing him be humiliated and degraded. Everything _hurt_.

“You’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a teacher who bores everyone when he opens his mouth!”

Logan stops pleading. There’s no point. The knife twists more, and his hand is almost too numb to feel it. There’s pressure and a vague feeling of sharpness, and nothing more.

“Just look at your parents, you bored them to _death!_ ”

And that was all it took for Logan to go completely silent. He doesn’t dare speak. He doesn’t scream or sob or do anything more than whimper slightly as Remus lets go of the knife, not taking it out. Remus stands up, looking disgruntled.

“I’m going for a walk. This place better be _spotless_ by the time I’m back, my little star. And you’d better do it alone – I’ll _know_ if not.”

And the room is silent after Remus slams the door shut. And then Patton laughs, loud and slicing through the air. And Emile lets go of Virgil as Virgil leans over to look at Logan, his Papa blankly staring at the ground.

“God, you’re pathetic. Thinking you’re too good for us...come on, Pat, let’s take dessert upstairs.”

Emile watches them leave, unsure of what to do. He walks around slowly to Logan and nudges him gently. The man seems to react, just a little, and then slowly stands up, shaking, and wincing as he pulls the knife out of his hand. And Emile has a medical degree and has worked with many injured patients, but he has _never_ seen someone so nonchalant about a wound that bleeds as much as this one.

“Logan, it’s gone all the way through...you _need_ to see a doctor, one with supplies and everything...” Emile grabs the tablecloth, pressing it against the heavily bleeding wound.

“It’s fine,” Logan mumbles weakly, “it’s...it’s not my worst injury...”

His voice wobbles, and Emile starts to suspect shock and nerve damage, because this shouldn’t be something he can go through so easily. Comparatively. He wishes he had things he could actually use.

“...C-Could you get the first aid kit?” Logan asks, almost pitifully.

By the time Emile has returned, Logan is already trying to wash up.

“You can’t clean up in this state!” Emile insists, taking Logan’s hand and gently cleaning it. “Just let me, okay?”

Logan shakes his head slowly, watching as Emile carefully does what he can. Butterfly strips, antiseptic cream, gauze, bandages, tubular grip...Emile is quick and careful and experienced.

“...I-I know you’re a doctor… but you’re oddly good at this to just be a therapist, sure you’re not a Registered nurse?” Logan asks softly.

“Yes, but more importantly, _you can’t clean in this state._ You could get an infection, Logan. And there’s still the potential for nerve damage or even paralysis of the hand.”

Logan sighs, pulling his hand away upon being dressed as best as possible.

“You don’t get it, Emile...if I _don’t_ clean up and...and make this place spotless...then he’s going to hurt me even more.”

“T-Then let _me_ do it!”

“He’ll _know_. Please...Emile...just go sit down and watch those cartoons you like. Let me deal with this. I don’t...want you to be hurt.”

And that’s all Emile can get out of him before he turns to clean. And clean. And clean. Until his unharmed hand is shaking and his injured hand bleeds right through the dressings.

All Emile can do is listen to his sobs from the other room.

Remus comes back after about an hour, and heads straight to the kitchen. So, of course, Emile follows him, peeking around the arch to look and listen.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Logan whisper, “I...I’ve cleaned it all up.”

He sees Remus take off the dressings he worked so hard on, hears Logan whimper as Remus tuts. But the butterfly strips remain on, at least.

“Can you get a doctor in?” Logan asks, and Emile feels hopeful.

“No. I can’t trust you with one. And besides, you don’t deserve it...do you?”

Emile tenses up, fists clenching, something burning inside of him. This wasn’t _right_.

“N-No, my saviour...you’re right, I...I don’t deserve treatment.”

Emile isn’t sure what came over him, but the moment he heard Logan say those words he found himself storming into the kitchen. His green eyes narrowed angrily, staring directly at Remus. 

“Like hell, he doesn’t deserve treatment!! After _everything_ he’s done for you and your demon children he deserves all the fucking treatment in the world!” 

The two older men stare at him in shock, Logan more in fear than shock really. Remus is the first to shake the feeling away, a smirk coming to his face as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Oh, does he now? I don’t believe he’s _earned_ it, but maybe you can earn it for him.”

Emile winces but stands his ground, he holds his head high glaring at Remus, silently daring the older man to do his worst. When Remus stays silent, Emile gives in with a sigh. 

“Remus, _please…_ The injury is too bad, without treatment there could be nerve damage or possible amputation, he needs treatment, _please.”_

Emile watches as Remus takes Logan’s hand, inspecting the injury more closely. 

“Hm… Nah! I wanna see if the skin around it will go black, I want to see if an infection will settle in and eat away his skin slowly, wouldn’t that be cool!?” 

“No! No, it would not be cool!! Just-I-If you won’t get him a doctor then let me tend to it! I just need better supplies and I can tend to it, I-I’ll do anything _please.”_

Emile notices how Logan flinches when he says that he’d do anything, he realizes why when Remus’ eyes light up in glee. 

“Anything?” Remus asks. 

Emile swallows thickly before nodding, “A-Anything, just… let me help him please…” 

“Alright, I’ll let you help him… but you have to go on a date with my Stormcloud. No arguing or fighting, just a lovely night out with your one true love. What do ya say, deal?” 

Emile glances over to Logan, the older man shaking his head and mouthing no as he clutches his hand to his chest. Emile looks back at Remus and sighs. 

“Deal…” 


	8. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's currently 12:47 AM so have a chapter :3

_April 10th, 2012_

Emile wasn’t sure how Logan did it. He woke up at six in the morning reluctantly, wondering why an ungodly hour like that was necessary. The house wasn’t so big it’d take all day to clean. And with the exception of him - and Logan - there were only three people living there!

Even including himself and Logan, it wasn’t as if either of them were in a position to make a mess. A day this long was not needed for the potential mess of just three people. But Logan said this was necessary, and expected, so he had to, really.

Emile sighs as he brushes his hair out, tugging at the short skirt that Virgil had laid out for him the night before. If Emile knew that he wouldn’t get in trouble he would switch the skirt out for a pair of Virgil’s pants. Emile takes a breath and rubs his eyes, he stifles a yawn and makes his way out of the bathroom. 

He stops at the top of the stairs when he hears someone fiddling around in the kitchen. Emile furrows his brows and slowly makes his way down, he peeks into the kitchen and groans when he sees Logan at the stove. His injured hand held close to his body as he tried to crack an egg with one hand. 

“Logan… What are you doing?” 

The injured man jumps and turns to face Emile, Logan sighs when he sees Emile standing on the threshold of the kitchen. 

“Was going to cook my saviour’s eggs… He likes them a certain way and I know he’ll get upset if they’re wrong.” 

Emile sighs and walks over to Logan, gently taking the egg from him and placing it back into the carton. 

“I can make the eggs, you need to go back to bed. Well, after I change your bandages, then you can go up and rest.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Logan insists, although the effort to do so is obvious in his voice, “I’ve worked through worse…”

“I don’t care, you need to rest. You could easily lose the use of that hand, do you want that?” Emile says sternly and watches Logan flinch.

“...No.”

“Exactly.”

Emile guides Logan back to bed, gently but firmly telling him to remain in bed this time. He ignores how Remus sleeps through the whole thing and watches Logan seemingly collapse into the mattress.

“Sunnyside up,” Logan mumbles to Emile, “he likes them sunny side up...and Virgil likes scrambled...and…”

“I’ll manage,” Emile reassures him.

Emile hates seeing Logan like this, and leaves quickly to head back to the kitchen. Logan was forty, he shouldn’t be acting...well, like this. Stubbornly working through a major injury like a teenager who still thinks they’re invincible.

Maybe Logan was still stuck mentally at twenty-something? Emile ponders the question as he attempts to cook the eggs. He’d heard of traumatised people getting “stuck” at a mental age. Sure, it was usually people who’d suffered trauma at a young age, but from what he knew Logan had a _big_ trauma happen. Maybe it affected him…

Emile smells smoke and curses himself as he tries and fails to rescue the now burning eggs. He groans and chucks the blackened mess in the bin before taking out another egg and trying again.

“Remus likes sunny side up, Virgil likes scrambled...um...not sure about Patton…”

He frantically works on the eggs, and eventually manages a small variety that he’s happy with. They probably weren’t as good as his brother’s or Logan’s, but they were successful eggs!

Emile puts on some toast, and makes an attempt to make bacon - it comes out a bit crispy, but that was fine, right?

Then the Holter family comes down and immediately criticises it.

“You over scrambled the eggs,” complains Virgil.

“The bacon’s too hard, it’s rock hard!” Patton complains.

“Why would you make us _toast?”_ complains Remus.

Emile stares, completely unprepared for this reaction, and unsure of how to respond to it. 

Virgil huffs and pushes his plate away, “Papa wouldn’t make this damn mistake. Can you at least make some crepes with cream and strawberries, bunny? Those are easy.” 

Emile goes to argue that crepes are most certainly not easy, considering it took his brother four tries to make crepes. 

“No! I want waffles and cream!” Patton interrupts. 

Emile looks at Patton and goes to tell him to make his own waffles in the toaster. He’s cut off when Remus stands from the table, causing the chair he was in to scrape against the floor. 

“We’re going to get some real food, you clean this mess up and get rid of whatever the hell you made. If it’s not done by the time we’re back you’re getting punished.” 

Emile watches as the Holter’s leave the kitchen, the front door slamming behind them, causing Emile to flinch at the sudden loud noise. 

Emile sighs and takes a piece of bacon, he takes a bite and makes a face. ‘ _Okay, maybe they were right to go out and eat instead…’_

Emile huffs as he rakes the ruined breakfast into the trash, he places the dishes on the counter and begins to fix up some dishwater. 

“I told them I can’t cook, I’m not a good cook, I can barely microwave soup. Maybe I can find some cookbooks… Try to make up for this.” 

He sighs as he scrubs the dishes clean, Emile doesn't understand how Logan was able to deal with this, heck he couldn’t even understand how he managed to learn how to cook the fancy dishes that he’s forced to make. 

“Maybe I’ll get some cooking skills out of this… Show Dee that I’m able to cook too.” Emile mumbles as he rinses the last dish, setting it in the drainer with the others. Emile sighs as he dries his hands, he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. 

“I could straighten the living room up…” 

Emile huffs and leaves the kitchen, flicking the light off as he does. He jumps when the shrill sound of the phone ringing fills the silent room. Emile blinks and slowly inched his way over to the phone. He looks at the caller ID, he furrows his brows when he sees that it was the nearby mortuary. ‘ _At least I’m still in Tampa…’_

Emile jumps when the answering machine picks up, a ladies voice comes through the speaker. 

‘ _Remus, it’s Jennifer next time you decide to not show up, I would like to be called, don’t make this a habit Holter.’_

Emile was shocked at how the woman talked, Remus must act differently while at work, at least that’s what Emile was assuming this call was about. 

‘ _What the hell are you waiting for? They’re gone! Call the cops!’_

Emile glances over to the door and towards the stairs where Logan was resting in his room. He could call the cops and get himself and Logan to safety, he would finally get Logan to a doctor instead of having to makeshift patchwork with the supplies he was given. 

Emile swallows thickly and picks the phone up with a shaking hand, he breathes deeply through his nose before punching in those three numbers that have been seared into his memory since he was four. 

‘ _911 What’s your emergency?’_

“M-My name is Emile Picani and I’ve been kidnapped…” 

‘ _Oh, dear… Can you give me the address or are your captor’s present?’_

Emile looks around for a moment, relief floods through him when he sees an old envelope on the coffee table.

“T-The address is 11504 Carrollwood Drive, it's a white two-story with dark green shutters!” 

‘ _I’m sorry but you cut out what wa-s t-hat last bi-?’_

The hope that Emile felt washed away when the phone went dead, he hangs up and tries to call back only for a busy signal to sound. Emile screams in frustration and slams the phone down. 

Remus snorts as he watches his sons fight over the last strawberry, he sips his coffee and jumps when his phone vibrates in his pocket, hissing a small curse when his drink burns his upper lip. 

He sends a glare the twins’ way when they snicker at him, Remus huffs and takes his phone from his pocket, accepting the call. 

“Uncle! I’m surprised you’re up this early, could have sworn today was your day off!” 

‘ _It was, but you know how it is. I can’t trust these incompetent idiots with the simplest of tasks. Now, Remus, who have you left unattended at your house?’_

Remus furrows his brows, “No one, why?” 

‘ _Well, obviously it was someone. Because I know neither of you called the police and I’m sure the slut knows better by now considering what happened the last time.’_

Remus tenses and curses. 

“I know who it was, I’ll call you back once I’ve dealt with it uncle.”

‘ _You should really have Stormcloud tell that little bunny of his, the rules, I’d hate to have to do it for him, Remus.’_

Remus stares at his phone when his uncle hangs up, he breathes an angry breath through his nose and stands up from the table, throwing a hundred onto the table as he does. 

“What’s wrong, dad?” Virgil asks. 

“Your damn soulmate used the phone.” 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Logan asks softly as he watches Emile wrap new bandages around his hand. 

“I’m just… Frustrated, what’s with them and not liking toast? Toast is great!” 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. 

“They’re spoilt… My sir tends to spoil the three of them a lot… only the best for his nephews as he says…”

Emile huffs as he finishes wrapping Logan’s hand, he looks up at the older man and huffs again. 

“Sounds to me that the guy has more money than brains.” 

Emile jumps when Logan lets out a loud laugh, he watches as the older man leans back against his pillows his uninjured hand pressed against his face as he wheezes with laughter. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I-I have never heard someone say that about my sir, _ever._ S-So excuse me, but that is hilarious!” 

Emile giggles softly, Logan’s laughter being contagious. Both of them jump when the front door slams open downstairs, they look at each other in confusion for a moment. 

“Emile! Get your fucking ass down here!” Remus screams. 

Emile flinches and sighs, he tells Logan that he’ll be back and for him to stay in bed while he deals with Remus. 

The first thing Emile felt when he reached the bottom of the stairs was a stinging smack. The force of the hit sent him to the floor, Emile cups his left cheek and looks up with teary eyes, Remus stood over him, his face twisted into a snarl. 

“Honestly, how fucking stupid do you think we are?” 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! W-Why did you hit me!?” 

Emile yelps when Remus pulls him up by his hair, he claws at the older man’s hands and stares up at him with wide eyes. 

“You used the phone, did you really think I wouldn’t find out about it? Now, I wouldn’t be as angry if you had used it for something like food, but noo you call the police! I thought you were supposed to be _smart.”_

“Remus, let him go! I told him to use the phone!” 

The room falls to a chilling silence as everyone looks towards the stairs, Logan stood at the top his injured hand clutched tightly to his chest. His dark eyes were narrowed at his husband, Emile noticed how his uninjured hand shook. 

“You did, _what?”_

Logan takes a shaky breath, “I-I told him to use the phone. I-I knew that sir would have the day off, s-so I thought Emile would get away with g-getting us help.” 

Emile winces when Remus throws him to the side, his arm rubbing roughly against the carpet. He heard Logan let out a pained wail, Emile watches as Remus drags Logan down the stairs holding tightly to his injured hand. 

“H-Hey! Stop leave him alone!” Emile yells as he tries to go after them, only to have Virgil grab him by the waist. 

Emile watches as Remus pulls Logan into the basement, the older man’s screams being cut off when the door slams shut. 

“Ya know bunny, you can tell the truth. Papa didn’t actually tell you to call the police did he?” Virgil asks as he pulls Emile upstairs. 

Emile watches as Patton smirks, fluttering his fingers in a small wave before disappearing completely from his view. 

“I-I don’t need you to coax me! He didn’t tell me! Now let go of me, I need to help him!” 

Emile stumbles when Virgil shoves him into his room, closing the door behind them as he does. He turns to look at Virgil, “W-What are you doing?” 

“On your knees, bunny.” 

“What? No! Move, I-I’m not playing this stupid game with you, Logan needs help!” 

Virgil tuts, and then Emile is forced down to his knees, making him cry out at the sudden impact as he hits the floor.

“You’re pathetic,” Virgil mutters, “thinking that you could get by with such a stupid thing. You’re my _soulmate_ you’re not supposed to want to leave.”

Emile scowls up at Virgil clenching his fists before looking away. How was Virgil so _strong?_ This was ridiculous.

“You’re pathetic, yes...staying on your knees for me, like a well-trained dog.” Emile’s cheeks burn, in anger or embarrassment, he isn’t sure yet. “You’re a doctor, but you still manage to be an empty-headed bimbo when you need to be. Just sitting there and doing what I say...but don’t worry, I like that.”

“Shut up,” hisses Emile, “shut up – I’m not a bimbo, I’m not empty-headed, I-”

Virgil slaps him hard, making Emile flinch and fall to the side, hitting the floor at a painful angle. As he winces, Virgil stands up, reaching for something beside his bed.

“No, _you_ shut up,” he snarls, “you don’t get to talk back to me! You’re my soulmate, you’re here to love me and let me love you! And that means you have to take what I give you, got it?”

“I will _never_ love you,” Emile snaps, “and-”

He sees the swing of something wooden, and can’t move in time. It slams into his knee and Emile cries out.

“You _will_ love me.”

The wood hits his knee again. Something cracks. Emile screams, eyes watering as his knee begins to throb and burn. And then Virgil hits his knee again, and again. Emile tries to move away, but every motion makes his knee scream in pain.

 _Crack.._ His knee starts to swell. _Crack_ . Emile tries to speak, but the pain is overwhelming. _Crack._ His whole body spasms as his knee smashes apart.

Finally, Virgil stops, pulling back and smirking at Emile. He shows no remorse. Only some strange sort of pride. And Emile hates that more than what he did.

“Next time, Bunny, listen to me. You’re my soulmate, and you don’t need to do anything except listen to me and do what I say, okay? If you do, you get a happy life where you just relax and let me control you...and if you don’t, I have to hurt you. It’s all up to you.”

Emile breathes deeply, before slowly nodding weakly. Maybe he _was_ just a soulmate. He could at least attempt to play along, no matter how much he hated it.

He watches as Virgil inspects his knee.

“Broken. I’ll get the supplies. And the crutches.”

And he does. Emile lies there whilst Virgil goes about setting the injury. He does it roughly, without the care that Logan showed. Logan did it as if he were used to doing it on himself. Virgil does it as if he’s used to doing it on others.

Emile isn’t sure which is worse.

He’s lifted up and offered the crutches, which he takes gingerly, trying not to cry. And Virgil hugs him tightly.

“I just want you to show me you love me,” Virgil murmurs, “okay, Bunny? Do that and we’re fine.”

And Emile just nods.

Logan struggles against the restraints Remus placed over his wrists and ankles, the worn-down wood of the chair he was in made sitting uncomfortable. His left hand throbbed painfully, blood dripping from the wound again. Logan’s fingers twitched as he watched Remus flit around the basement. 

“I thought we got past this lying, Star. You know I hate when you lie to me.” 

Logan takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes, “I-I wasn’t lying. Now please just, g-get my punishment over with.” 

Remus huffs as he slides a chair over settling it in front of Logan, a spray bottle in hand along with a salt shaker and a small unmarked bag. Logan gulps and looks up at Remus, his husband had a small smirk on his face. 

“You were lying, I’m not stupid star. Now this is going to hurt, a lot.” 

Logan bites the inside of his jaw when Remus sprays the liquid in the bottle on his hand, the scent of lemons fills the basement. The burning started slow, it increased when Remus poured at least half of the salt over the wound. Tears blur his vision as Remus adds more lemon juice, squeezing his hand as he does earning himself a yelp from Logan. 

“This isn’t as satisfying as whipping you, but I want to see if I can get the skin around your hand to turn black.” 

Logan scrunches his nose up when something putrid takes over the lemon smell, he looks downright as Remus pours some of the dirt that was in the bag over his hand. He winces as his husband rubs the dirt in. 

“I normally hate you being sick, but manure is the fastest way for me to see if your skin will turn black! Do you think Emile will have to amputate? It’ll be like the tissue is dying and I heard that that is _painful.”_

Logan tenses and looks up at his husband with wide eyes. 

“Now let’s get your hand wrapped back up…” 

Emile watches as Logan is helped back upstairs by Remus, the older man’s face was pale and both his hands were shaking. Emile noticed how the bandages around Logan’s hand were almost black with dirt and blood. 

He grabs his crutches ready to follow after them only to be stopped by Patton. Emile looks over to him and watches as Patton shakes his head and smirks. 

“You’ve got some cleaning up to do, ya know dusting, sweeping, mopping, and laundry.” 

“W-What? Y-You guys can’t honestly expect me to do all of that with my knee broken!!” 

They look towards the stairs when they hear someone coming down them. 

“Actually, I do. My precious star has done it before, so I expect you to do it too.” 

Emile clenches his jaw tightly as he grips his crutches tight, angry tears blur his vision. 

“W-Well I’m not your precious star!! I-I’m Emile Alexander Picani! I’m not Logan, I don’t… I-I’m not _used_ to this shit! S-Stop expecting me to be like him because I’m not!!” 

The three Holter’s stare at him in shocked silence, they never expected Emile to yell at them, especially after being punished. 

“I-I’ve never had a bone broken! This _hurts_ I-I can’t deal with this like Logan can because I am not him! I-If you want the cleaning and laundry done then do it your fucking selves!!” 

Emile pants angrily as his tears slip freely down his flushed face, the three Holters continue to stare at him. Remus is the first to shake his shock away, he frowns and breathes an irritated sigh. 

“Fine, you can rest for the remainder of the day, but I expect this house to be cleaned tomorrow. The boys and I will go out for dinner, if you use the phone again I will know and you will get punished by me, understand?” 

Emile sniffles and shakily wipes his eyes, “Y-Yes sir.” 

Emile groans as he clings to the stair banister, he was glad that the twins and Remus weren’t around, otherwise, they would be laughing at him. 

“Now I know how Dee felt when he broke his leg… Ugh…” 

He breathes a sigh of relief once he reaches the top of the stairs, Emile catches his breath before moving to Logan and Remus’ room. Crutches were difficult, Emile could say that, but he was glad that he was allowed to have them. 

Emile stands in front of the door for a moment before pushing it open, Logan was sitting on the bed drenched in sweat. His hand unwrapped, Emile gasps when he notices the yellow puss coming from Logan’s hand. He places his hand over his nose when the smell of infection fills his senses. 

“W-What happened?” Logan asks when he looks over to Emile. 

“W-Was punished, w-what did he do your hand?” 

Logan closes his eyes tight and swallows down the bile that rose into his throat at the mention of Emile getting punished. He breathes deeply through his nose. 

“I-I’m sorry… I-I was trying to keep you safe…” 

“That doesn’t matter!! Y-Your hand is infected, what did he do!?” 

Logan sighs and looks up at Emile, his vision going fuzzy around the edges. The last thing he hears his Emile yelling his name and pain filling his head as he falls off the bed unconscious. 

‘ _Finally a bit of peace…’_


	9. Nightmares vs Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to your regularly scheduled angst!

_ People say you can only have nightmares when you’re asleep. But, respectfully, I disagree. _

_ I so often don’t dream. People talk about “fever dreams”, and I’ve been ill or injured so often that you’d think I’d have experienced some by now. But I don’t dream, and the few times that I do, it’s peaceful. _

_ It’s me in an empty field, walking for hours, and going nowhere. _

_ It’s me wandering the halls of my middle school, every door locked and nobody in sight. _

_ It’s me stuck in my old bedroom, staring out the window at a road without cars, a street without people, trees without birds. _

_ Just me, and nobody around me. Nobody to put me down, to hurt me, to threaten me and yell at me and treat me like shit. _

_ Just me, and nobody around to help me. _

_ But when I wake up, it hurts again. The sting of my hand is burning now, and I hear my mother shushing me gently, telling me it’ll be okay. I feel my father’s hand on my forehead, telling me I’m heating up. _

_ I choke out apologies, tell them I miss them, reach out for them. My mother bandages up my hand looks me in the eyes, and hers are green. _

_ They should be brown. _

_ And the darkness claims me again, my vision rotting away as I retreat back into a more peaceful dream. _

_ They say you can only have nightmares when you’re asleep. But mine only happens when I’m awake. _

Desmond sits up with a start, a scream trapped in his throat. Bi-coloured eyes flick around the room, he groans when he realizes where he is, Emile’s old room. Desmond drags his hand down his face and breathes a heavy sigh, he shifts slightly on the bed jumping when something falls to the floor resulting in a loud thump from the impact. 

Desmond looks down and winces, right, he had been looking in the old family album. The book was opened to the last picture he and Emile took with their mother, it was on Emile’s twelfth birthday, his brother smiling brightly between him and his mother. 

“She was actually sober at that time…” Desmond mumbles as he picks the album up, he traces the picture with his finger and smiles. 

“I promise… Once you’re back I’m throwing you the biggest party… Ya know after I beat the hell out of whoever took you…” 

Desmond glances over to the Looney Tunes wall clock that Emile kept, he sighs, it read four-thirty in the morning. 

“Time for some coffee and light cleaning before getting ready for work…” 

Roman awakes with a start, his breathing coming in short puffs of air. He reaches to his right to shake Emile up only to stop when he doesn't see the familiar lump of his boyfriend’s sleeping form. He pulls his hand back and runs it through his sweat-soaked hair breathing a shaky sigh. 

“R-Right… How could I forget…” 

Roman glances over to his nightstand and grabs his phone, he squints his eyes when the bright screen lights up the darkroom. The clock read five-fifteen in the morning. He sighs as he unlocks his phone, his heart constricting when his background pops up. It was a picture of him and Emi, he remembered taking it on the last date they had. 

He goes into his contacts and clicks on Emi’s name, he presses call and presses the phone to his ear, it goes straight to voicemail. 

‘ _ This is Emile, you know what to do! But if it’s Roman call me straight back and I promise to answer! Bye!’  _

When the beep comes Roman takes a shaky breath, “I-I miss you… So much… P-Please come back safe…” 

Roman hangs up and stares down at his boyfriend’s number. Tears slip down his cheeks as he presses call again.

‘ _ This is Emile, you know what to do! But if it’s Roman call me straight back and I promise to answer! Bye!’  _

Roman closes his eyes tightly. What if this was the only time he got to hear Emile’s voice again? What if Emile was really gone? If this voicemail message was all he had left to remember him by?

“...Emi, it’s Roman...you promised to answer if I called straight back…”

It’s stupid and childish and he knows there’s no way it would work, or get through to Emile, or make any difference. But he can’t help the way Emile’s absence digs a hole in his heart. Desmond and Patton had been doing their best, but Roman knew Desmond felt the pain too.

And it didn’t matter how friendly Patton was, he couldn’t get the fear out of his head. He wanted to be distracted, and he knew Patton was trying, but he was scared. He needed his boyfriend back.

“...Just, call me...please...I’m here…”

He hangs up.

_ A young man sits up in his bed, only to discover the world is blank, and everyone around him is busy. Walking, running, talking, continuing with their lives. Some are mundane, some are extraordinary. Some make bad choices, some make good ones. _

_ But when he goes to join them, he finds himself being pulled back, shoved back down into his bed. Hands over his weakening body, clawing into his weakening mind. _

_ “Help him,” I call, but my voice comes from that young man, whose face ages, whose body grows thin and weary and fragile. _

_ “Help him!” I scream and desperately try to do something. But no matter what I do, I can’t do anything.. _

_ I feel myself be assaulted by those hands, clawing and grabbing at me wildly, like starving lions ripping flesh from an injured gazelle. _

_ “Help!” I scream again, and then the hands pat me, somehow gently. _

_ “Shush, it’s okay,” they tell me, “it’s okay, I’m here.” _

_ “Don’t!” I cry, “don’t - please, leave me alone-” _

_ “I’m here to help.” _

_ I close my eyes tightly and sob into the darkness, shutting out the sounds of those surrounding me. _

Desmond awakes with a start, breathing deeply. His sheets are covered in sweat, and his heart is racing wildly. He forces himself to slow his breathing, to focus on the here and now.

He looks around, at the clock, at the mirror that had gained a smudge and  _ needed  _ to be cleaned again - he wouldn’t slip up again, not now - and then down at the collection of cold kidnapping cases and newspaper articles spanning the past twenty-five years.

He looks at the most recent, of a picture of his brother smiling cheerfully under the title “aspiring doctor gone missing”. His brother, reduced to a pretty photograph and “aspiring doctor”.

“Stupid idiots don’t know the half of my dorky brother,” he mutters to himself, yawning and rubbing his eyes before stretching.

In doing so, he knocks off the newspaper, and in reaching for it, knocks off a bunch more. He groans and accepts defeat. He had to leave his nice warm bed. Desmond gets off and picks up the papers properly, pausing at an old one.

_ University Professor Missing _

It was old, faded, and the photograph was stiffer than Emile’s. A black and white man seemingly in his early twenties stares from behind thin-framed glasses, a fuzzy ID card (or so Desmond assumes) around his neck, suggesting this was taken for his job. Desmond had seen at Emile’s university they’d put up photos of professors like this.

He picks up the newspaper, mostly for the distraction, scanning the page.

_ University professor Doctor Logan Sanders went missing in the early hours of last Tuesday morning. His parents report he had been feeling unsafe, but police say they found no evidence of stalking or harassment. _

“Hope they found you,” Desmond mumbles, yawning.

Desmond glances up at the mirror again, the smudge taunting him. He huffs and lays the paper down. 

“I don’t need sleep anyway…” 

“Roman, maybe you should try putting some of Emile’s things away… Ya know, in case the worst possible scenario happens.” Patton suggests as he pops a batch of cookies into the oven. 

Roman felt as if all the air was knocked out of him, he pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“How could you say that? The… The ‘worst possible scenario’ isn’t going to happen, Patton. Emile is coming home, Dee’s going to find him.” 

Patton sighs and turns to look at Roman, leaning against the stove as he does. He folds his arms over his chest. 

“I’m just saying, Ro… Cases like these can get nasty and depressing, but if it will make you happy then leave his things out.” 

Roman clenches his jaw and breathes deeply through his nose, Patton was his friend, but he didn’t see where he had any right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do with Emile’s things. 

“Ya know what will make me really happy? You leaving, out-just-get out, Patton.” 

Patton opens his mouth to argue but Roman wasn’t having it, he moves over to where Patton is and grabs him by the left arm. He pulls Patton towards the door and pushes him out. 

“Roman wai-!” Patton is cut off by the door slamming in his face. Roman leans his head against the door and takes a shaky breath. 

‘ _ He’s going to come back, I just know it…’  _

_ “Can you hear me?” _

_ Somebody is calling me. _

_ “Hey, can you hear me?” _

_ I don’t know if I want to reply. _

_ “Are you okay?” _

_ I don’t want to talk. I don’t think I could if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. I want to turn away, but every movement hurts. _

_ “Talk to me.” _

_ I force myself to try and answer them, just to make them stop, to make the ringing in my head go away. But my mouth goes dry, and the words themselves seem to freeze in my mouth. _

_ “I’m okay,” I want to tell them, but the words taste sour and bitter. _

_ Like lies. _

_ I’m a liar, aren’t I? _

_ Trying to tell them I’m okay. _

_ Telling them I don’t want to die. _

_ “I’m okay,” I mumble. _

_ Bitter lies. Sour lies. Disgusting lies. _

_ Liar. _

Desmond awakes with a start, accidentally pressing his car horn in the process. He mumbles a curse as he rubs his eyes, ‘ _ Fucking nightmares…’  _ Desmond winces when his phone begins to ring, he groans and drags his hand down his face. 

“What?” He snaps into the device once he answers it, not really caring who was on the other end. 

“Lose the attitude, Wickham, I need you back in here, there’s something I need to tell you.” 

Desmond goes to apologize only for the captain to hang up on him, he groans again and leans his head against the steering wheel. 

Desmond checks the time and mumbles another curse, he slept way past his break time. ‘ _ Great, now I’m probably in trouble, just great.’ _

He sighs and drags his hand through his hair, “If I’m getting suspended then I’m gonna look good as it happens.” 

Desmond ignores the looks he gets as he strides across the bullpen floor, he could feel the tension in the air. Something told him that they all knew something that he didn’t, ‘ _ They must know I’m in trouble.’  _

He steps into the captain’s office, closing the door behind him. 

“Take a seat, Desmond. This won’t take long, but I’m going to need you to remain calm, okay?” 

Desmond does as he is told, sitting up straight waiting for the man to scold him and then ask him for his badge and gun. 

“We’ve closed your brother’s case. There’s been no leads, no evidence, the case is a dead end and there are more cases that need to be looked over.” 

At that moment, Desmond could have sworn he heard a record scratch. He stares at the captain in silence for a moment, unblinking. 

“I’m sorry, but you did  _ what?”  _ Desmond asks, unaware of his fingers tapping against his left thigh. 

“We closed the case. Your brother most likely planned this as a ploy to get away.” 

Desmond didn’t know what came over him, all he knew was that he had his boss shoved against the wall, his hands gripping the man’s suit tightly as he struggled not to hit him. 

Captain Craine stares at him with wide eyes, he holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Desmond, I know you’re upset but you need to release me before you do something you’ll regret.” 

Desmond could hear the door to the office open, he glanced over and saw one of the security guards that normally guard the front standing in the threshold. 

Desmond looks back to Captain Craine and drops him stepping away from the older man. 

“Close the damn case, I don’t need one to fucking look for him myself. I love my job sir, you know I do, but if you  _ ever  _ say that my baby brother wanted to leave when a witness saw what happened again, I’ll be sure to give you a reason to get rid of me.” 

Desmond storms out of the office before Captain Craine can even think to reply, his hands shaking as he taps his fingers over and over against his leg. 

‘ _ How the fuck am I supposed to tell Roman?’  _

Roman felt as if there was ice in his veins, he stared at Patton with wide blue eyes. He shakes his head and chokes back a sob. 

“Oh… Roman… I’m sorry…” Patton says as he squeezes Roman’s shoulder. 

Roman could feel himself breaking, what little hope he had washed away. The case was closed, Emile’s case was closed. His boyfriend was never going to be found, forever being known as the aspiring doctor that ran away. 

Another sob leaves Roman’s mouth as he throws himself at Patton, wrapping his arms around his friend. He cries freely into his shoulder, gripping his shirt so tight that his knuckles grew white from the tension. 

Roman had missed the smirk that formed on Patton’s face as the dirty blonde rubbed his back in mock sympathy. 

“Shh… It’ll be okay, Ro… I promise.” 

‘ _ I’ll make it better my Romeo…’  _

_ Fever. Everything hurts. But the world seems to focus more. Hyperaware. Everything is loud and bright and too much. It’s hard to breathe. _

_ I open my eyes, see sunlight streaming through the windows. It’s gold like beautiful ribbons, but they twist and turn before my eyes. Monstrous creatures of beauty and grace. They dance around me, laughing and taunting me. They hate me. _

_ “You’re worthless,” they hiss, and I recognise the voice, “you can’t do anything, can you?” _

_ I try to say it isn’t true, but the words catch in my throat. _

_ “Worthless, stupid little-” _

Logan awakes from his nightmare with a start, sweating and shaking.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…”

He looks around, breathing deeply and ignoring the pain in his hand, and settles on Emile, standing over him and smiling slightly.

“S-Sorry…” Logan wishes he could say more, “m-my hand though…”

“Healing,” Emile assures him, “bad dream…?”

Logan thinks of his nightmares, of the isolation, of the assaults whilst the world turns. He thinks of the bitter taste of lies, and of the beautiful creatures that laugh at him.

He thinks of his real life, of the nightmare he lives, of how the dreams pale in comparison. Is it really a bad dream if your real life is worse?

“...yeah,” he says, half a whisper, “just a bad dream.”


	10. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A early update??

_April 25, 2012_

Logan stirs awake when a stream of sunlight shines over his face. He slowly blinks his eyes open and groans, he flinches when a hand gets close to his face. 

“Easy, Lo, it’s just me… Your fever has gone down, I was worried about you there for a while. How are you feeling?”

Logan relaxes and closes his eyes breathing deeply through his nose as he does. 

“B-Better… A little achy, i-is my hand okay?”

“Yeah! The infection is gone, stitches need to stay in a bit longer, but other than that you're right as rain now!” 

Logan smiles and winces when his stomach grumbles painfully, right, the last time he ate was when he was stabbed in the hand.

“H-How long have I been down?...” 

Emile sighs as he takes a seat next to Logan on the bed.

“It’s Wednesday, April the 25th, so about two weeks…” 

He watches as Logan curls up under the covers, a groan leaving the older man’s mouth. 

“I-I’m sorry for leaving you alone with them, especially while you’re hurt… h-how is your knee?” 

“It’s… Okay, I’m able to walk without the crutches, I just can’t put a lot of weight on my right knee… Are you hungry? Remus and the twins are working...so I can just fix us some sandwiches.” 

Logan sits up and looks at Emile, “Actually, I’m in the mood for some cookies…” 

Emile watches as Logan tosses the covers aside, the older man swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Logan stands up carefully, with Emile half holding him up as he does.

“I’m fine,” Logan insists, voice croaking slightly, “this isn’t the first time I’ve had difficulty standing, Emile. I can do this.”

Emile doesn’t want to think about what sort of things could make Logan struggle to stand.

“But if I’m here, I might as well help you, yeah?”

Logan visibly hesitates, but Emile offers his arm regardless.

He gives in with a sigh he takes Emile’s arm, giving the pink-haired boy a small smile as he does. 

“Help this old man down the stairs?” 

Emile chuckles and nods. He helps support Logan, despite the pain in his knee, although he can tell Logan isn’t fully relying on him. Which is appreciated, but also...not the point Emile had been trying to make.

“You can lean on me a bit more,” he assures Logan, helping him out the room and down the stairs. “I know I’m not in peak condition, but I’m young and sturdy!”

Logan laughs at his announcement but doesn’t place any more weight on Emile. Emile notices how Logan uses the other side of the stairs to support them, and how his hand does odd painful-looking twitches against the wall.

“How long until it stops, do you think?” Logan asks when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

Emile winces, then sighs.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “there’s always the possibility of lasting nerve damage...but hopefully it’ll heal. Just...give it time, you know?”

Logan nods and then smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. He seems to move on quickly though, walking slowly towards the kitchen, clearly exhausted. Emile limps after him, and as Logan stops to pass him a thin folded walking stick, he realises Logan didn’t specify whose injury he had been referring to.

_How long until my limp stops, or until his hand stops twitching...I guess it doesn’t matter. The answer is the same either way._

“Are you okay?” Logan asks him after a moment, and Emile realises he hasn’t taken the stick.

“Yes, sorry, just...lost in thought.” It’s not a lie. Emile takes the walking stick gingerly and opens it up, letting it snap into place before hesitantly holding it and making an even more hesitant step.

“Other arm,” Logan tells him quickly, “and turn it around - it’ll be easier for you and put less pressure on your shoulder and wrist if you have the ‘open’ end towards you.”

Emile turns it around and switches arms, and tests it again. Sure enough, Logan was right.

“Feels odd,” he admits, “...I’m a doctor, I should know this…”

It feels like a personal failure, and he walks into the kitchen unsteadily.

“A lot of doctors don’t,” Logan admits, “at least...not the ones I’ve seen…”

Logan seems to busy himself with going through cupboards for the ingredients. His hand doesn’t grip the handles properly, but he’s able to get them out regardless.

“Do you need any help?” Emile asks him, walking over, “you should really try not to use your left hand right now…”

Logan hesitates before nodding. It seemed that despite the protests of “I can manage”, the man knew he had limits.

“Can you break the eggs for me?” he asks, “and what sort of cookies do you want?”

Emile blinks, then remembers the brown sugar and cinnamon cookies his mother baked as a child and repeats it aloud.

Logan looks surprised, then smiles slightly, almost bittersweet. “My father made those,” he tells Emile, getting out the cinnamon, “every Sunday. He would claim it was for Church when my grandparents asked, and then we’d conveniently “forget” about Church and just eat the cookies instead.”

Emile blinks, and then smiles, letting silence fall between them as they get the cookie mixture done. He desperately wants to ask Logan about his parents, just out of nosiness, really…

“You can ask me whatever you like. I have no secrets anymore.”

Emile is taken by surprise by the statement. Was it really that obvious what he was thinking? He avoids asking.

“That’s sad,” he comments.

“That’s life,” is Logan’s negative reply.

Emile takes over when Logan tries to put the first dozen in the oven. It was safer for him to do it, after all, what with Logan’s hand. He can see Logan checking the time anxiously as he shuts the oven door.

“When will my family be back?” Logan asks him, “they’ll get mad if they find us eating cookies…”

“What? Why?” Emile asks, frowning, and Logan sighs.

“It’s just a rule,” he explains, “be thankful it’s not my sir. He has...a set list of rules. When you see him you’ll be expected to follow them as well.”

“Um...who’s your sir?” Emile asks timidly, “oh and they said they wouldn’t be back until dinner.”

Logan lets out a relieved sigh and indicates to Emile to take the cookies out of the oven. “That’s good...and oh those smell delicious...oh I’m so hungry…”

Emile chuckles as he puts in a second batch. Logan doesn’t even wait for the cookies to cool and harden, he simply picks one up and begins eating. Not that Emile blames him. Logan hadn’t eaten much at all recently, and when he had eaten he’d been violently ill.

“God these are amazing,” mumbles Logan, not caring about the way the cookies burn his tongue, “I love cinnamon…”

Emile chuckles. “Same. My brother’s allergic, though, so I rarely have it these days. And, um...Lo, you never told me, who’s your sir?”

Logan tenses then sighs, swallowing his next cookie quickly and breathing deeply before answering after another moment of careful thought.

“My saviour’s uncle. The man practically raised my saviour...it’s no wonder...well, that things are as they are. He’s ridiculously rich and even crueler than he is rich. When you meet him, I’ll try to keep him focused on me, but...well, just...be careful. I can’t guarantee anything.”

Emile frowns. “I hope I never meet him,” he mutters, reaching for a cookie of his own.

“You will,” Logan says bluntly, “they visit him frequently. If he takes a liking to you, he’ll have you come over for parties and such when he feels like it…”

“Parties?”

Logan quickly changes the subject. “Any other questions?”

Emile can take a hint. He searches for other subjects to ask Logan about now they had some privacy. Well, there was one thing he wanted to ask about...

“...Your parents. Were they nice people?” Emile lets the question blurt out. His _dearest_ Virgil would probably reference a band-aid. “I mean...you made them sound...uh...”

“They were, yes,” Logan interrupts, sounding warmer than usual, “they were lovely, and they did all they could to get me through my PhD...my mother took on three jobs at one point. I told her not to, but that was the sort of thing she did.”

“What did she work as?” Emile asks, smiling and sitting up on the counter, “my mum was a midwife! I don’t know about my dad – he left when I was four, and never talks to us.”

“That’s rather negligent of him,” Logan comments, frowning, “why? And my mother was a pharmacist. Very intelligent, very hard working...like you in those regards.”

Emile blushes and grins, ignoring the question asked of him in favour of hugging the man tightly around the waist, half launching himself from the counter to do so.

“Oof...but she never launched herself at injured people-”

Emile laughs, soft and musical, and Logan can’t help but smile. The laugh sounded so much like his mothers…

Emile makes sure to save some cookies for the other three. By which, of course, he means he purposefully burns a few and sprinkles a bit too much cayenne pepper over the top whilst they cook. And then offers them to the family.

“I tried really hard,” he says, pouting when Remus eyes them warily, “I was trying to follow Logan’s recipe, but of course he was too ill to tell me how to bake them correctly...”

“It’s cool that you tried, Bunny,” Virgil says, taking one and chewing it, “it’s a bit burnt. Papa does them better. And he-ugh...”

Patton and Remus start eating just as Virgil starts feeling the pepper.

“God, Bunny, what did you put in this – ah fuck my mouth-”

“J-Just cinnamon!” Emile lies, watching the three rush off.

He lets himself smirk once they’re out of sight.

Maybe they should be nicer. Next time it could be laxatives, after all.

“Have you guys decided on dinner? I was thinking chicken with lemon!” Emile calls, he snickers when he hears the three Holter men groan. 

“Actually, why don’t you just clean up and I’ll order everyone take-out? I’ll even get my star something as a special treat!” 

Emile chuckles softly. 

“Of course, whatever you guys want.” 

Dinner was so tense. Logan struggles with his knife and fork, and both him and Emile look at Remus frequently, just in case the man decides to do something horrific again.

Virgil and Patton seem unbothered, but Emile swears he can see Virgil glancing over every now and again, looking almost concerned. Emile wanted to believe that Virgil had the capability to feel worried for his father.

Remus turns to Emile, suddenly excited.

“Aha! You thought I forgot!”

Emile blinks, just as confused as the other three, who looks at him expectantly.

“What do you mean, my saviour?” Logan asks, “what did Emile think you forgot?”

Remus waves his hand at Logan, who seems to take it as a cue to go quiet. It only makes Emile more nervous.

“I really don’t understand,” he protests, “what do you mean?”

“A date!” Remus says it as if it were obvious, and Emile frowns.

Remus sighs heavily, although Virgil suddenly perks up.

“Remember, you promised my son a date!” Remus says triumphantly.

Logan lowers his head slightly, and Emile sighs.

“Yes...um, so...a movie, maybe? Or-”

“No, no, of course not.” Remus waves his hand. “I know a place that will make an excellent family holiday as well as a chance for you two to have many dates!”

Emile almost doesn’t notice how Logan tenses up. Almost. From the corner of his eye, he can see the man freeze like a rabbit in the headlights, every muscle poised to run away.

“Where’s that?” he asks hesitantly.

Virgil and Patton suddenly look excited, as if the realisation has hit them, and Emile sincerely wishes he wasn’t in the dark about the matter.

Remus grins widely, almost like a Cheshire cat.

“We’re going to visit my uncle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Holter will be with you shortly...


	11. A Smudge on Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That damn smudge is bugging all of us lets face it-

_May 1, 2012_

Desmond had a splitting caffeine-induced headache. A pained groan leaves his mouth as he rubs his temples, hoping to ease the pain. He was pretty sure he was on day three of no sleep, choosing to look into more kidnapping cases, only he couldn’t focus. Desmond sighs and looks down at the faded newspaper down in front of him. He got his wish he supposes, the school professor was found, but something seemed iffy about his rescue. 

Another groan leaves his mouth, both of pain and aggravation. The pain from straining his eyes to try and read the article and the aggravation for the fact that he kept going back to a solved case. 

‘ _Ya know, you’d be able to focus if you got some sleep and cut down on the coffee. How many times do I have to tell you, Dee? Too much caffeine isn’t healthy!’_

Desmond snorts when his brother’s voice replaces his conscious, “Great… You’re not even here and you’re scolding me… maybe I’ll get some sleep when you decide to leave some kind of evidence.” 

‘ _Maybe there is evidence, none that I left but some you found all on your own. Try reading the article again.’_

Desmond groans and lets his head thump on his desk, letting out an even louder groan due to the throbbing pain that resonated through his skull. 

‘ _That’s what you get for being dramatic! Now, look at the article,’_ “Emile” scolds. 

Desmond lets out an annoyed huff as he lifts his head again, “Even as a sleep deprivation audible hallucination you’re a pain in my ass.” 

He glances down at the article and allows his eyes to focus, ‘ _Two years after his disappearance Dr. Logan Sanders has been found. A young man, by the name R.Holter, went to the proper authorities later Monday evening telling them that they heard cries coming from an abandoned building on Main Street…’_ Desmond blinks and flips to a new article, one dated July 16th, 1994, two months after the teacher was found. 

“A wedding announcement?” 

‘ _Great observation, sherlock.’_

Desmond mentally glared at his not brother, the picture that was used for the wedding announcement had faded, but it was still clear enough to see the faces of the people in it. 

On the right was Dr. Logan Sanders, he looked tense in the dark coloured dress he wore, “Damn that guy is pretty.” 

‘ _Focus! For once use your head, not the one in your pants!’_ “Emile” scolds. Desmond huffs and looks over the picture once more, Logan looked sad, his smile not reaching his eyes. 

The man beside him made Desmond think of a rat, or well not a rat. The guy wasn’t exactly ugly, but he’s hugged up to the pretty teacher so Desmond’s allowed to be jealous. 

‘ _You don’t even know him, Dee, focus.’_

“I don’t know any of the dudes in those playgirl magazines I stole and I still ogle over them, so leave me alone.” 

‘ _You’re disgusting, just read the damn article.’_

Desmond huffs and reads the caption, ‘ _Dr. Logan Sanders and R.Holter have requested privacy during their wedding. Congratulations to the happy couple!’_

Desmond furrows his brows and looks through the papers that littered his desk, he picks up a smudged piece of paper containing a list of people that was questioned during Logan’s disappearance. 

“This Holter guy isn’t mentioned once… Why the hell does that name sound familiar?” 

‘ _I’ll give you a hint, his name starts with a P and he’s disgustingly excitable.’_

Patton, his name is Holter, that could just be a coincidence, the last name is pretty common. 

‘ _Sure it is, the guy is sketchy as fuck and his last name matches the guy who supposedly ‘saved’ this professor guy, total coincidence.’_

“Okay look, quit being snarky! I can’t just question the guy about his last name because of a damn case that was over twenty years ago! Why am I arguing with a voice in my head!?” 

Desmond groans and thumps his head on the desk once more, his headache long gone, nothing but a dull ache now. 

‘ _Look into the name Holter, look into Patton’s records again, you know this guy has something to do with all of this, fix it.’_

“I hate when you have a point,” he mutters, “...let me sleep, okay? And then I’ll do it.”

He almost swears he feels his brother kiss his forehead goodnight as he falls asleep, but in the morning the voice of his brother seems to have faded.

Desmond considers taking extra caffeine, just to see if he can hear his brother’s voice like that again. But if he wanted to hear his brother’s voice for real, he had to get on and search.

Patton Holter. When Desmond had initially looked him up, he’d found articles on a case of child abuse and neglect leaving two young children in care. Then, of course, they got adopted. There wasn’t much information on who by. But a longer search on google shows Patton’s brother.

Virgil Holter. He worked in a tattoo studio across town. Specialised in traditional-looking tattoos. Celtic styles, but had a flair for watercolour. Looking at the images on the site, Desmond would be lying if he said he wasn’t considering getting one himself the next time he had an impulsive urge.

Virgil didn’t work all day there, according to the website. And today he wasn’t. Which was good, because Desmond didn’t want to look like the stalker he was going to be.

“Well, let’s go,” he mutters to himself, “...once we clean the kitchen. Just once.”

Roman felt the worst in the mornings. He thinks, at least. He was so used to waking up early, before his boyfriend, just so he could make him breakfast. Emile worked hard, and deserved that much. Roman worked hard too, of course, but differently. He worked from home on art commissions and as a freelance writer. He was finishing an online course in drama.

He wanted to be an actor, to be in the spotlight, and he worked hard on it. But Emile lived and breathed medicine. Emile was the hardest worker Roman knew. He always wanted to help someone.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn’t the medicine. Maybe Emile just lived and breathed to help others.

He wipes his eyes, feeling tears already pricking at the corners.

The mornings were hard. He’d get up, turn to kiss his boyfriend’s sleeping head, only to feel the pain of an empty bed. He’d cook two portions of french toast, only to remember only one person was there to eat. He’d get dressed, and pause to stare at Emile’s clothes hanging next to his. He’d touch them gently, feeling the softness of the cardigans, the smoothness of his shirts, the shiny decal on his geeky fandom tops…

Roman blinks when he feels something slip down his face, he curses softly as he wipes the tears away. He couldn’t cry, if he cries then Patton will ask what’s wrong and Roman doesn’t think he can handle that right now. 

The sound of Patton’s cheery knock is what pushes Roman to step away from his and Emile’s shared closet. He takes a deep breath and checks himself over in the mirror, his face was a little flushed, but that’s okay. 

Roman sighs when Patton knocks again, “He can be so impatient sometimes…” 

Patton huffs as he gets ready to knock again, only to have Roman pull the door open. It only took one glance for Patton to realize that his Romeo had been crying. Patton wishes to hold Roman in his arms, but he knew that that would be a mistake. 

“Are you ready to go? I figured we could get some coffee and some pastries.” 

Roman forces a smile, Patton struggles not to frown hating that Roman has to force smiles around him. Patton holds his arm out for Roman to take once he closes and locks the door behind him. 

“It’s a little warm out for that, don’t you think?” Roman asks. 

“Right… Sorry,” Patton mumbles as he lowers his arm if he was Emile Roman wouldn’t have cared to cling to his arm. 

Patton breathes deeply and flashes Roman a toothy smile. 

“Well, let’s go! Those pastries aren’t going to eat themselves!” 

Desmond fidgets nervously as he stands in the reception area of the tattoo parlor, he hasn’t had a cup of coffee all day, so the sudden lack of caffeine was getting to him. ‘ _That and the smudge you left on the refrigerator, what’s wrong with you?’_ Right yeah, he left a smudge but he can deal with that later. 

He steals his nerves when a dark-skinned woman wearing a black apron comes towards the front. Half of her head was shaved with flowing purple and pink hair hanging down her right side. She pulls off her latex gloves and offers a hand to Desmond. He’s happy that he wore his gloves today, his anxiety making it a severe no touching day. Desmond takes her hand and gives it a small shake. 

“My name is Amelia, but you can call me Ame, I take you’re the one that called about Virgil?” 

Desmond couldn’t help but stare at the tattoos that danced across Amelia’s arm, he wonders if she did them herself or had someone else do them, ‘ _Focus.’_

“Um… Yeah, I saw his work on your guy’s website, I was going to talk to him about possibly giving me a tattoo.” 

Amelia smiles, Desmond notices how her canine teeth were sharpened into points, like vampire fangs.

“His work is pretty cool, huh? He and I met a couple of years ago, we actually opened this place together thanks to his dad.” 

Desmond blinks, ‘ _Well, obviously he and Patton were adopted by someone who has access to money.’_

“That’s pretty awesome, do you know anything else about Virgil’s father?” This question was pushing it, but it didn’t hurt to ask. 

Amelia shakes her head, Desmond watches as she nervously plays with one of her snakebite piercings. 

“Nah… Never met either of them, just knew that the dude wrote the check for this place and the supplies. If ya want I can schedule you for an appointment with Virge, he won’t be in until May 13th though, something about going on holiday with his parents, brother, and a new boyfriend.” 

Desmond blinks, “New boyfriend? Does he talk about this new boyfriend?” Amelia frowns, ‘ _Shit too far.’_

“No, and I’ve never seen him either.” 

‘ _Double shit now she’s mad…’_

“Right, right sorry I tend to ask too many questions… right well, I’ll be going now.” 

Desmond turns to leave only to be stopped by a hand being placed on his shoulder, he looks behind him and sees Amelia staring at him with her dark eyes. 

“I know you’re a cop, you suck at hiding it. Is Virgil in trouble for something?” 

‘ _Fuck.’_

“No, his brother just told me about the work he does and I wanted to meet him in person.” 

Amelia searches Desmond’s face for any type of lie before giving in with a sigh. She lets him go and digs into her apron pocket pulling out a small black card that looked like it had paint splatters on it. 

“Here, his cell number is on this, you can give him a call and discuss tattoo arrangements.” 

Desmond takes the card and places it in his pocket, he offers Amelia a tight-lipped smile. 

“Thank you, it was nice meeting you, Amelia.” 

Desmond walks out of the shop and lets his breath out, he takes a hand through his hair and groans. 

‘ _Now we can focus on that smudge!’_

“Yeah yeah…” 

“So, I’m going away for a bit, my family and I are going on holiday to my great-uncle’s.” 

Roman blinks and looks up at Patton, the taller boy’s dirty blonde hair swaying in the breeze. Patton flashes him a small smile. 

“Oh… How long will you be gone?” 

“Two weeks, my little brother is taking his new boyfriend so I have to be there, common courtesy.” 

Roman winces, he and Emile were supposed to plan a trip for the coming summer, they were going to go to some amusement parks and go sightseeing. 

“Oh… Well, I hope you guys have fun.” 

Roman blinks when Patton pulls him into a tight hug, he hesitantly hugs him back not really caring for Patton’s touching, but he didn’t have the heart to push him away. 

“I’ll miss you, Ro…” 

“Yeah…” Patton tightens his hold on Roman.

“I-I’ll miss you too, Pat.” 


	12. A Soulmates Rules Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember the rules everyone~ ;)
> 
> TW: implied/ref sexual abuse!

_May 3, 2012_

Logan was stressed. It was obvious, at least to Emile, despite the way the Holter family were seemingly oblivious to it. Logan had to tell the twins off for one thing or another daily - “Patton, don’t throw things down the stairs!” “Virgil, we have neighbours, turn the music down!” “Would you two stop leaving rubbish lying around?”

Occasionally the two would at least look _somewhat_ sheepish, although Logan never got an apology or an attempt to help. Mostly the pair would laugh and continue with whatever they were doing. Which was crazy to Emile. He and his brother would never have gotten away with it.

Meanwhile, Remus hadn’t let up with his usual treatment of Logan. He would obsessively stroke the scar on Logan’s hand, and coo over how “cute” it was. And then proceed to lick it and make lewd suggestions related to licking that made Emile’s skin crawl. Logan had resumed waking up early to do everything around the house, although Emile had begun to join him. Mostly because it kept him occupied. Maybe he could find a way to escape.

But right now, Logan was stressed, and it was all because of the upcoming two-week trip.

“You need to tell my Bunny the rules,” Virgil says one evening, a couple of days before the trip, and Logan tenses up. “I don’t want my soulmate getting into trouble!”

“Y-Yes, of course,” Logan’s reply is as stiff as his posture, “I wouldn’t have allowed him to visit without me telling him the rules.”

Emile was morbidly curious, of course, but made sure to wait until after dinner, where Logan was expected to continue with his chores and general misery until Remus decided it was “couple time”.

“What rules is he talking about?” he asks Logan, and immediately the man tenses again before sighing.

“...Sir has rules,” Logan starts to explain slowly, “for soulmates. Like us.”

“Why are we treated differently?” Emile asks bitterly, “we’re the same as them! But not - well - evil!”

Logan shifts uncomfortably. “First rule at Sir’s - no complaining. Second, my sons aren’t necessarily _evil_...their father’s side of the family, father included, just...encouraged them to be awful…”

Emile is doubtful as to whether or not Logan should be defending anyone in the family, but doesn’t mention it. “What happens if I complain?” he asks.

“Breaking any rule results in punishments,” Logan asks, “some of them are rule-specific. Some aren’t.”

“I see…” Emile runs his fingers through his hair, “...so what happens if you break the complaining rule?”

Logan hesitates.

_“What did I tell you about complaining? Sluts like you don’t get to complain, you hear me? You don’t deserve that sort of luxury, you filthy little-”_

_Logan didn’t hear the last word, although he could take a guess, because of the pain of the whip hitting his skin. His back ripped open, barbs catching into the skin, blood trickling down. He didn’t dare make a noise. He wasn’t meant to, unless instructed, after all._

_“You deserve any treatment you get, slut, and you’ll take it without the backchat.”_

_Another whip and Logan almost screamed, breath hitching as the blood trickled down quicker, thick and oozing and sticking to his shirt._

_“You got it? No more complaining? Say yes and you’ll only get thirty more.”_

“...Nothing good,” Logan says finally.

“Oh…” Emile isn’t sure what to say, combing through his hair a little harder, “...what other rules are there?”

“Don’t make eye contact,” Logan explains, “look down at all times. He doesn’t consider us to be worthy of eye contact, and he’s prone to anger if you do it. It was one of the first rules he made.”

_“You fucking bitch, stupid soulmates like you don’t get to meet me in the eye. You hear me?”_

_Logan screamed as his hair was pulled hard, his scalp screaming too. He begged to be let go, desperately yelled apologies, and then a black cloth was wrapped tightly around his head, covering his eyes._

_“You’ll keep this blindfold on for two days, you hear me? Next time it’ll be for a week.”_

_“I-I can’t - sir, how am I meant to - get around - how am I-”_

_His hair was pulled harder at that._

_“Quit speaking. You’ll continue as usual, and you’ll fucking deal with the blindfold, got it?”_

“...again, the punishment isn’t fun,” Logan says with a heavy sigh, “it isn’t painful - he blindfolds you - but you have to continue as usual. Walking around their house and trying to do your chores whilst blindfolded isn’t fun. And...you can never tell who you’re around.”

“He sounds...um…” Emile isn’t sure what word would even fit this man. “...You always call him sir. Will I have to as well?”

“Yes,” Logan picks up a dishcloth, “Virgil will call him Uncle Remy, but don’t dare copy him. If you don’t call him sir, he _will_ gag you. That’s the punishment for breaking that rule.”

“Gag...me?” Emile repeats, “...how?”

“Usually with a ball gag. Sometimes with others.”

_Of all the gags Logan had been forced into wearing, he hated the open mouth one the most. They always made his jaw hurt and with those gags, it made it easier for his sir or his saviour to do things._

_“Look at you… You’re a slut, but you’re such a pretty slut.”_

_Logan flinches when a calloused finger traces his bottom lip, he wishes that he could close his mouth._

_“Let this be a lesson, you refer to me as sir and only sir, you’re not worthy enough to use my name. The next time you do, the spider gag will be the least of your problems. Understand?”_

_Tears stream down Logan’s face as he nods._

_A smirk is thrown his way, “Good slut…”_

Logan breathes deeply, “Just… make sure to call him sir, the gags aren’t worth it.” 

Emile nods slowly and hands Logan a plate to dry, the two of them stay silent taking turns drying and putting dishes away. 

“Don’t ask about his tattoo… that’s the fourth rule, if you ask about it he’ll threaten to give you one.” 

Emile jumps when Logan suddenly speaks. 

“Did… Did he make you get a tattoo?” 

“How do you think the initials came about?” 

_“It’s a cool tattoo hm? How cool do you think it is?”_

_Logan should have known that the man didn’t want him to elaborate, but he was naive and wanted to be nice._

_“It’s um… Really cool.”_

_“I see… Well, how would you like to have one? I’m sure I can pin you down and have the word slut tattooed nicely on the side of your face.”_

_Logan tenses and his eyes widen, he opens his mouth to apologize only to be backhand, causing him to fall to the marble floor._

_“Hm… On second thought, you’re missing an R… for my nephew's name, but a tattoo is too simple… a scar would do nicely.”_

Emile goes quiet then looks at his own wrist. He’d been trying so hard to ignore the V tattooed there. It was beautiful. Pristine, clean lines, a beautiful black that looked almost purple in some lights. And he hated it. It repulsed him. He felt ill just looking at it.

He glances at Logan’s wrist, a deep, thick raised scar in a rough “R”. It isn’t pretty, it’s just as repulsive as Emile’s scar and the faded silver colour combined with the raised lines suggests that despite its age, it was a bad wound.

“...That leads to the next rule,” Logan admits, putting aside another dish, “you have to have that initial showing at all times. Sir _will_ force you into nudity otherwise. Insists that if you’re going to cover things up, you won’t be allowed to cover up at all.”

Emile almost drops the plate he’s holding, freezing then going bright red.

“What - no - that’s perverse - what-”

He’s not exactly sure how to respond to that rule. Logan says it far too casually, not even pausing as he says it.

“Don’t worry, my sons are...not, exactly, the best...but they won’t want you too badly hurt by my Sir.”

“Fantastic,” mutters Emile, “they have some vague kind of morals. So good of them…”

“I know, I know…” Logan sighs, “but considering their father and grand-uncle, they could be a lot worse…”

“Yeah, if they had to see their dad naked-”

“They’ve never seen me naked,” Logan almost snaps the words, then forces himself to breathe deeply, “...their father and grand-uncle are many things, but they would never expose that sort of thing to them. When I was punished, it was out of sight from them until they - until they made the choice to see some of them. They know that I get whipped, for example, and they know I get hurt. But...they don’t know everything, Emile.”

Emile fidgets slightly, unsure of what to make of Logan going to the defence of his kidnappers. He supposes it’s natural. They are Logan’s sons, after all.

“...They chose to see you get hurt?” Emile says finally.

“...Yes. But...they’ve never seen me naked, or...anything worse than a bad whipping…”

_Logan curled up tighter in the cold basement. He wasn’t going to be let out until his sons went to bed. The basement was so cold, and despite the freezing walls and stone floor, curling up against the corner was still the warmest position._

_He didn’t like to think of what would happen once they were asleep, though. He wasn’t even sure how his sir was comfortable hurting him like he would with the twins in the house. He wasn’t sure how his sir could do those things anyway, but he would._

_Logan closed his eyes and told himself it was okay._

_“I can accept this,” he told himself, “i-it’s my fault, after all.”_

_When he had said it enough times, he almost believed it._

“...I’m sorry.”

Emile’s words make Logan blink out of the bad memories, and he forces a smile.

“It’s fine, Emile. Now, I won’t let you have your initial covered, okay? I promise. Besides, if we’re lucky, I can get Sir to focus on me instead of you. Anyway...next rule. And, um, I’m not sure how to say this next rule, but...you’ll have to wear lingerie. I’ll make sure Virgil gets you...more covering...lingerie, but-”

“I’m not - I won’t - Logan, this guy can’t make me!!” Emile can’t help but be flustered - beyond flustered - embarrassed and angry - he never wore anything more revealing than a t-shirt and pair of three quarter length trousers. He just didn’t, he wasn’t that type.

The things Virgil was making him wear right now were the most revealing things he’d worn, ever, and he already hated them.

“But he can,” is Logan’s simple answer.

_Logan had learned not to protest being touched or fondled or shoved around like an object. But he drew the line at Remy lifting his skirt and tutting at his choice of undergarments._

_“Remus, didn’t you want him wearing prettier things?”_

_Remus had pulled a face._

_“I did! But he keeps changing!”_

_Remy frowned, and it became a glare as Logan pushed him away._

_“We’ll see about that.”_

“Just do it, Emile,” Logan mutters, “if you stay quiet and don’t draw his attention too much, it shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll try my best to keep you safe, okay?”

Emile smiles slightly. He wants to believe Logan capable, but the man he described sounded close to impossible to reason with.

“So...will you just, ask him to, or something?” Emile asks, drying his hands off, “I mean, ask him to focus on you?”

Logan chuckles and glances at the door for a moment.

“No. Another rule is that you can’t speak without permission. If he says you can, or if you _really_ want to speak, ‘please, sir, may I speak?’, I mean. Always assume you don’t have permission.”

“Then, how do you plan to keep me safe? You said you wanted to make him focus on you, but how?”

“I have my ways.”

_Logan didn’t know what made him decide to do it. The poor soul Remy had dragged in was barely twenty, crying and terrified. Remy had made it clear what he was going to do. So Logan didn’t know why he did it. He just wanted to save the kid - they were barely an adult, after all - for at least one more day._

_He pressed himself against Remy, body flush with his, and rested his head against him. Remy simply glanced at him._

_“Yes? Speak, slut.”_

_“Sir, choose me instead.”_

_Logan still didn’t know why he said it. He could have backed off. He could have backed off and taken a whipping instead. But he didn’t._

_“You? Really?”_

_Logan glanced once at the weeping boy before nodding and hesitantly clinging to Remy’s shirt with one hand._

_He licked his lips, and it seemed to be enough because Remy chuckled before shoving him away._

_“Go on then. Meet me in my room in five minutes.”_

_Logan looked one last time at the crying boy before going, Logan was sure he’d remember the boy, the scar over his left eye stood out against his pale face._

_He knew what the boy’s fate would be._

_But at least he saved him for one more night...right?_

“Logan? Logan, you’re-”

Emile’s words once again bring him back to the past, and Logan wipes his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he lies, “come on, let’s see if-”

“Star!!”

Emile and Logan both turn to see Remus entering the kitchen. Remus strides over and grabs Logan by the arm far too roughly.

“Star, it's couple time! Come on!”

“R-Right…” Logan turns to Emile quickly as he’s dragged back, “I’ll tell you the rest in the morning, Emile! I promise-”

And with one last tug of Logan’s arm, Emile is left alone in the kitchen.


	13. A Soulmates Rules Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, there were over eighteen rules we had to write but hey an update!

_May 4, 2012_

Emile is understandably anxious when he awakes the next morning. He had barely slept, his mind running through the rules Logan had told him about obsessively. And when Virgil had held him close, he’d felt sick to his stomach.

As soon as he sees Logan, in a dark green dress that ended above the knees and looking miserable, he feels tempted to ask for a hug.

But that would be...inappropriate, right?

“I need to tell you the rest of the rules, right?” Logan asks Emile, heading downstairs.

“Y-Yeah, you do…” Emile follows him quickly, tugging at the ends of his pastel coloured skirt. He’d tried to pick clothes he liked the look of, but they were all still...uncomfortable...in one way or another.

“Let’s start then. Another rule is that you can’t deny your partner anything. You just - you can’t say no to them. Oh, but Sir overrules that. So if Virgil says one thing and Sir says, another...follow Sir. The punishment isn’t as bad that way.”

Logan says it as casually as he then asks Emile what he’d like for breakfast.

“I...um…” Emile is caught off guard by the question change.

“We can have breakfast if we start it now,” Logan explains, “I’m having toast.”

“...toast sounds good?” Emile smiles slightly, “...so, what happens if you say no?”

Logan looks uncomfortable for a moment.

_Remy pushed Logan into Remus’ arms. Remus linked fingers with Logan from behind, whilst Remy grabbed his wrists tightly from the front, trapping Logan between them._

_“So you really said no to my nephew?” Remy sneered, “as if you deserve the option.”_

_Logan looked away, not daring to answer the question, and flinched as Remus’ hands began to wander._

_“Don’t worry, Remus,” Remy said as if it were really Remus who had reason to worry, “I’ll hold him still for you.”_

Emile doesn’t know how to reply to Logan’s explanation.

“...so...this “sir” guy, he holds you still whilst they...yeah…?” Emile thinks it’s fair to not know how to respond, jumping as toast pops up from the toaster, “that...sounds disgusting…”

“It could be worse,” Logan murmurs, picking up one of the toast slices and biting into it dry, “do you want butter on yours? Or jam?”

“Um...butter works...are you really eating that dry?” Emile asks, not really hungry after hearing about the punishment.

“If I gain any weight,” Logan takes another bite as he takes the butter from the fridge, “then my saviour will know I’ve been eating without his permission. So I don’t want to risk any extra calories.”

“But...you’re tiny,” Emile protests, “you can’t be much more than - what…”

Emile doesn’t know enough about BMI and weight to accurately guess Logan’s weight. Or really, to estimate Logan’s height, to begin with. It wasn’t exactly his medical specialty, and he’d never thought much about it before.

Logan just chuckles, “let’s just say, my BMI is below 18. Don’t look at me like that, I know I’m tiny, it’s not natural or by my choice. I’m thicker by nature.”

Emile isn’t surprised by the low BMI, by the way, Logan’s legs seem to be almost twigs, or how the bones on his hands stick out when he passes him the buttered toast. But it still disturbs him.

“You’re seeing a nutritionist when we get out,” he murmurs, forcing himself to eat.

“Maybe.” Logan obviously looks doubtful - and Emile knows the man has given up on getting out - and begins to busy himself with whisking up eggs. “So, I’m thinking, pancakes, waffles, french toast…”

“You realise we’re only feeding three people?" Emile asks, “...and wait, lower than 18 BMI, isn’t that like, 120 or something?”

“What?! No! I’m not _that_ thin!” Logan looks almost offended, “I’m six foot three, at that weight I’d probably be dead!”

“ _You’re six foot three?”_

“How tall did you think I was?” Logan half demands, putting some mixture in the waffle maker and turning to Emile indignantly. “In case you didn’t notice, young man, I’m _tall_.”

“Yeah, but...I thought, maybe six foot? Hard to believe your husband would marry someone so tall then stick them in high heels…” Emile isn’t quite sure whether it’s ok for him to say, but he says it anyway, eating some more of his toast.

“I’m shorter in the bedroom,” Logan says darkly, “now, where was I...right, don’t say no...next rule, like how we call him sir, you’ll need to call Virgil your saviour, at all times.”

“My...saviour? Why?” Emile asks, finishing his toast and noting Logan’s half-eaten toast, “Hey, don’t forget to eat that.”

Logan picks it up absentmindedly and shrugs.

“I think it’s meant to mean that our saviours “saved” us somehow. I don’t know, Emile. But you’ll get gagged for not saying it, just as quickly as you will for forgetting to say “sir”.”

_Logan hadn’t intended to forget, of course. He thought himself stupid for doing so - he thought he should have been used to calling Remus his saviour. But he had slipped up, and after the screaming, the yelling, the slap across the face, he had his mouth forced open wide and a ball gag shoved in painfully._

_Logan knew it wasn’t his fault, but he still believed he should just learn to be quiet. To hold his tongue and just remember the rules. To survive, as best as he could, for as long as he could._

_Like it mattered._

“Two more rules,” Logan adds before Emile can say anything, “don’t swear, and don’t lie. Of course you won’t talk unless they give you permission...but when you do talk...just, don’t lie or swear, alright? Even if you’re in pain and want to swear to release the tension. I know what you kids are like…”

Emile raises an eyebrow. “I don’t swear,” he says, only a little bit of a lie. He didn’t swear _much_. Not in front of his brother, at least. Desmond liked to believe Emile was sweet and innocent, at least to some extent.

He’d probably die if he realised Emile had learned his first swear word _from_ Desmond, at the age of three.

(“Fuck!” he remembers saying to his mother in glee. She had _not_ been happy.)

“I don’t believe you,” Logan says bluntly, and Emile grins sheepishly.

“You’re smarter than my brother.”

“Your brother is stupid if he thinks you don’t swear. Everyone swears, or _has_ sworn.”

Emile chuckles, not sure if Logan was just a pessimist, or whether there was some truth in what he said. Possibly the second - surely everyone had sworn when they got hurt, at least?

“What if the truth means breaking a different rule?” Emile asks, somewhat out of curiosity and somewhat to just have something to say.

Logan hesitates.

“...Don’t lie.”

_“Did you just call me by my name?”_

_Logan knew Remy hadn’t heard him properly. If he lied well enough, Remy wouldn’t know. Remy’s hearing was good, but it wasn’t so good as to hear him clear across the room._

_“...You’re considering lying to me.”_

_“No!”_

_There was silence as Logan realised he had lied to Remy, to his face, and that Remy inevitably knew that he had lied._

_“...You’re lucky I don’t cut out your tongue for that, slut,” Remy snarled, and dragged Logan away, “you know what they say to do to people who swear? Wash their mouth out with soap - and you’re going to need a lot of soap.”_

_Logan hadn’t struggled until he saw the brand. Soap in the mouth was unpleasant, but he was sure he could deal with it. Until he saw that it was a brand he was allergic to._

_“P-Please! Don’t!” he yelled, struggling, “please, I’ll - I’ll blister!”_

_Logan knew he was just breaking more rules by trying to struggle against what Remy wanted to do. But he knew how badly he would blister. He’d used it once before and his hands had come up in pus-filled blisters within days. Red, sore, painful._

_“Never lie to me.”_

_And Remy forced the bar into Logan’s mouth, forcing his jaw shut to hold the dreaded item in._

“That sounds awful…my brother’s allergic to cinnamon, I think he’d kill someone for doing that to him...oh, but he has the type where he has to carry an epi-pen…” Emile pauses, trailing off as the Holter family come down into the dining room just as Logan begins laying the table.

“Waffles!!” Patton hugs Logan tightly, “thanks, Papa! Hey, do we have chocolate sauce? And strawberries? And raspberries?”

Emile wonders why Patton doesn’t notice how thin Logan is when he hugs him. His clothes wrinkle and Patton’s hands touch the opposite elbows easily as he wraps his arms tight around him.

“We do,” Logan says, almost softly, “I’ll go get them. You sit down and eat.”

Remus stares hungrily at Logan as the man gets out the requested items, and Emile only feels more uncomfortable.

“Have you told him the rules?” Virgil asks nonchalantly, “have you told him about dressing properly?”

“I’m telling him, yes, but not yet-”

“Properly?” echoes Emile, looking at Virgil, for once more curious than intimidated.

“Say please, Bunny, and I’ll tell you,” Virgil says slyly, only to pout when Logan interrupts.

“Sir expects a certain dress code from us soulmates,” Logan explains tersely, “Virgil, don’t get the sugar everywhere - especially not over those jeans, I washed them just yesterday-”

“Now, star, don’t go criticising our little Stormcloud,” Remus says with a grin, “come and feed me whilst you explain the rule to Emile!”

Logan sighs and mutters a reluctant, ‘Yes, my saviour.’ Emile watches as Logan tries to sit in the chair beside Remus, only to have the other man to tug him onto his lap instead. 

“R-Right um… Where did I leave off…” 

“Something about a dress code?..” Emile supplies, squeaking when Virgil follows suit with his father, tugging Emile onto his lap. 

“Ah… Right… We have to dress properly, strictly skirts and blouses, even… if our saviour's pick it out, if sir doesn’t like it you must change. Or if you change without permission the… same thing happens as when you cover your initial.” 

_“Since you’re too good to wear the clothes my nephew picks, then you’re too good to wear any clothes at all.” Remy hissed as he ripped the t-shirt Logan wore from the frail man’s body._

_A shiver ran through Logan as the cold air of the basement smacked into him. He didn’t try to fight back when his sir ripped the sweat pants he stole next, he knew better by now than to fight back._

_“I-I’m sorry s-sir.”_

_“You’re going to be.”_

Emile could feel his face burning, he couldn’t understand what this family had towards stripping people, it was inhumane and wrong. 

“Next rule… Never get an attitude,” Logan continues as he feeds Remus another bite of waffle. 

“Oh! Oh! I love that rule, it’s hilarious. When my star first met my uncle and I mean the _first_ time way before we got married, he had the _biggest_ attitude, you remember right?” Remus says around a mouth full of waffles as he nudges Logan. 

Emile noticed how Logan grew tense. 

“How could I forget…” 

_“Your soulmate has an attitude,” Remy sneered, “we’ll have to fix that.”_

_Logan had gone to make a retort, still desperate to prove that he wasn’t going to break. He wasn’t a “soulmate”, he was going to be okay, he was going to get free!_

_“You’re a bitch,” Remy had told him, “you’re a fucking useless bitch. You only deserve to live to please my nephew.”_

_Logan didn’t know what to say to that, of course, and then Remy had taken out a knife._

_“You’re a bitch. Nod if you understand.”_

_“Fuck you.”_

_Remy then pinned Logan down, pulling his top up, and slowly carving out the word “bitch” across his stomach. Logan had screamed, had cried, had desperately tried to struggle, to no avail._

_“What are you?” Remy asked coldly._

_“G-Get off me!” Logan screamed._

_Remy carved deeper into the cuts, making the word bolder, sure to leave a nasty scar._

_“What are you?”_

_Logan couldn’t help himself._

_“A-A bitch!” He wanted the pain to stop. “I-I’m a bitch!”_

_He cried himself to sleep that night, feeling the blood drying over his stomach as he did._

“He had such an attitude back then,” Remus scolds, as Virgil offers Emile a piece of waffle in an almost kind gesture. “But we got it out of him!”

Emile nods slightly and eats the bite offered reluctantly.

“I have to go,” Patton cuts in sheepishly, finishing his food quickly, “I - have _things_ to do-”

Emile frowns, more than a little suspicious of the man’s actions.

“You need to finish packing,” Logan says as if to remind him, “we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t take long to pack, Papa,” Patton says with a roll of his eyes, “save me some lunch, okay?”

“I need to go soon too,” Virgil admits, “I have to pick up some designs for a new client from Amelia...but oh, Bunny, I have a hooded dress I made just for you that you can try on later!”

“If you’re bringing it to Sir’s, make sure it’s suitable,” Logan reminds him, feeding Remus another bite, “and see you later, Patton-”

Patton hugs Remus on his way, simply nodding at Logan before leaving, and Emile finds himself looking anxiously at Remus.

“I’m not working today,” Remus informs Logan, smirking and leaning in to say something inaudible as Virgil pushes Emile off his lap.

“See you later, Bunny,” Virgil hisses, kissing Emile forcefully.

It makes Emile cringe, recoiling on instinct, and he coughs slightly as Virgil pulls away. He hated every kiss more than the one before, and he didn’t understand why Logan seemed to have gotten used to it. Or maybe he did but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Logan looks paler than usual after Virgil leaves, but simply begins to wash the dishes whilst Remus wanders into another room.

“Are you okay?” Emile asks.

“Fine. And right, at Sir’s, you need to make sure you say thank you for things like kisses. Say thank you as much as you can, it’s the only thing you don’t need permission to say.”

He says it tersely, voice seemingly as tense as his posture. Emile can’t help but worry about what Remus said to him. But he tries to stay focused.

“...And if you-”

“Just do it, alright?”

_“You didn’t say thank you.”_

_Logan hadn’t been sure why he was expected to say thank you. He’d been whipped until all he could do was lie on the ground and try to breathe. Each breath was ragged and weak, and yet he was expected to say thank you for it nonetheless._

_“You should thank us for correcting your behaviour, for making you better…”_

_Logan groaned as Remy grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up. He closed his eyes to avoid eye contact, and Remy chuckled._

_“Good boy. Now, we’re going to repeat your punishment, and if you don’t say thank you after that, we’ll do it again, alright? Again and again, until you learn your lesson, slut.”_

_After the punishment was repeated, Logan didn’t have the energy to say thank you, shaking too much, throat sore from screaming._

_After the second time, it was repeated, he forced himself to say thank you despite it. Again and again, until he was certain Remy was happy._

Logan’s hand twitches slightly, making him drop the fork he’s holding into the sink, and the man curses softly.

“Do you want me to do that?” Emile offers, “I can’t cook, but I can wash up just fine…”

Logan shakes his scarred hand and hesitantly nods before backing away.

“Yes, thank you. My hand has been hurting today…”

Neither of them mentions the cause of the pain. Emile grabs a sponge to start washing and tries not to think about whether the hand pain from the now healed wound could become chronic.

“A-Anyway...another rule, you need to make sure you ask for permission before sitting at the table. Or, rather...don’t ask, just, wait. Don’t sit down until Virgil - or Sir - has said you can. Sir will make you eat from a pet bowl if you do.”

Emile pulls a face at the thought.

“At least it isn’t painful,” Logan points out, seeing his expression.

“Yeah, just humiliating,” Emile mutters, scrubbing at a plate.

“...Yes.”

_“You know what doesn’t sit at a table without asking permission? A cat, I wasn’t aware my nephew married a fucking cat.” Remy snarks when he sees Logan taking a seat at the dining room table._

_“I… I wasn’t aware that I had to ask permission, sir, I’m sorry.”_

_Remy snorts as he stands up from the table, he jerks Logan up before the frail man could properly stand himself._

_“No no, it’s fine! I’ve always wanted a pet.”_

_“P-Pet?” Logan stammers as Remy drags him into the kitchen, he hears Remy snap his fingers and watches as a maid scurries over with two pet bowls, one filled with water and the other filled with… well, he wasn’t sure he could call it food._

_“Pet, you want to sit at the table like some untamed cat, then you’ll be fed like one.”_

_Logan is forced down onto his hands and knees, Remy crouches down next to him a smirk plastered on his face._

_“Eat up, slut.”_

“A-Anyway...only two more rules. No napping without permission, and no running. Nice and simple. Not that you can really run in heels...or sleep well at that place…”

Emile sighs with relief at reaching the end of the rules.

“I don’t think I can nap around these people anyways,” he admits, “Virgil and Patton terrify me, and your husband is...scary.”

Logan nods slightly.

“Sir is worse.”

_“So, first you take a nap without permission, and then you go running…”_

_Logan didn’t dare speak to apologise. He knew better, after all. He hadn’t even meant to nap. He had just been so tired._

_He should have known better._

_“So, we’ll be keeping you awake for...how many hours did you sleep? Two? Two days then. And get on your knees to crawl for those two days. That will teach you not to run from me.”_

_Logan bowed his head and got on his hands and knees, his skin crawling as he did. He hated being on his hands and knees. He felt gross. He felt disgusting. He wanted to get away. He wanted everything to stop._

_He wanted to go to sleep and never wake up._

Logan silently gets a broom and begins sweeping, and Emile is reminded of how his brother would seemingly attempt to clean away the bad parts of life.

He can’t help but wonder if that’s why Logan cleans so well.

They clean in silence until Remus comes to drag Logan off, pulling the man upstairs and into their bedroom, with Logan not even trying to resist, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Emile hates it.

He hates feeling helpless.

He hates having to wait on someone from the outside helping. And by someone, he knows it’s his brother he’s waiting on.

_Please, Dee, please help us._


	14. Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A DOUBLE UPDATE? WE'RE ON A ROLL-

_May 5, 2012_

Desmond knew that he should probably back off, but why? He was so close and so sure that these Holter’s had something to do with his brother’s disappearance. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that this Professor Logan Sanders went missing for two years, then was suddenly found by this ‘R. Holter’ and then married the guy two months after being saved. Then Patton and his brother were adopted by two men who went by the last name Holter, there was something iffy about them and he was going to find out. 

If he doesn’t get fired that is. 

“First, it’s your brother’s case, now it’s a case that’s been closed for over _twenty years._ Am I going to have to suspend you, Desmond?” Captain Craine asks as he paces back and forth in front of Desmond. 

‘ _Bet that reminds you of someone,’_ a voice whispers in the back of Desmond’s head. He shakes it away. 

“I’m not questioning anyone sir, this case just caught my eye while I was doing research for my brothers. It’s just something to keep my mind occupied that’s all.” 

Captain Craine studies him for a moment, Desmond makes sure to keep eye contact, he learns one thing, eye contact is the key to being a good liar. 

_‘You had to be a good liar, didn’t you?’_

The captain sighs, “Alright, fine, but if I catch you questioning any of the people that were questioned previously in Professor Sanders’ case, you’re fired, got it?” 

Desmond relaxes and allows a small smile to form on his face, “Got it.” 

‘ _You never said anything about questioning people about the Holter twins.’_

Desmond never liked orphanages, he always thought they were sad. He remembers when he was five, after Emile was born his mother told him she couldn’t have babies anymore. He remembers how he wanted to so desperately trade his brother in for a sister at the orphanage, his mother wasn’t amused by it. 

“I thought it was funny,” he huffs to himself as he walks up the orphanage steps. He also remembered something that his father said… something that broke his heart when he was three. 

“ _You were adopted, the only reason we kept ya is cause we couldn’t give you back ya damn brat.”_

Desmond shakes his head and steps inside the orphanage, the sound of children running and screaming in delight was the first thing he heard. 

‘ _You never got to act like that.’_

“Are you the detective that I spoke to over the phone, earlier?” Desmond flinches and looks down, a petite woman in her late twenties stood in front of him. Her black hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, her green eyes somehow managed to look both tired and lively at the same time. Freckles peppered over her pale face, flour-covered the apron that was tied around her waist, keeping her jeans clean but her blue shirt a mess. 

She snaps her fingers in front of Desmond’s face causing him to blink. 

“Well?” 

“R-Right, sorry, sorry um yeah I am. Are… you busy? Because I was hoping to ask a few questions.” 

She looks him over, her manicured brows furrowed in thought. 

“Can you cook, pretty boy?” 

Desmond blinks his bi-coloured eyes in shock, that wasn’t something he was expecting. 

“Yes?” 

“Help me finish lunch and I’ll answer anything you want. It’s only me today, my grandma, the owner of the place is upstairs resting and I said I’d keep everything under control and well… as you can see that’s not going well.” 

Desmond had to agree, this girl looked like Emile when he first tried to make homemade crumpets because he and Roman just _had_ to have them with the tea they were having. Desmond thought he’d never get the fire out. 

“I don’t know… I mean I’m pretty busy, can’t I just talk to your grandma?” 

“You either help or leave because the only way you’ll get anything out of me is if you help me feed these little gremlins.” 

Desmond sighs and pulls his suit jacket off, hanging on one of the pegs on the wall. He unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, he ignores the girl's looks when she notices the pale scars on his arms. 

“Lead the way.” 

The relief that floods the girl's eyes are enough to make Desmond lose his resentment. She scurries out of the foyer, Desmond follows her passing many children who stared at them from various places. Okay, so that’s another reason why Desmond hated orphanages, kids were creepy. 

When they reached the kitchen Desmond had to do a double-take, it was a mess, a horrible disgusting mess, flour was everywhere, and some type of… filling was dripping from the counter. 

“What in the blue hell were you trying to _make?”_

“Chicken and dumplings? I-It’s what my grandma had on the whiteboard… but um… I kind of failed?” 

Failed was an understatement, Desmond sighs and grabs a white apron that was hanging by the door. He ties it around his waist and looks at the girl with a determined look. 

“Let’s get to work then.” 

Desmond serves the last child their bowl, offering the young boy a small smile as he does. He watches as the boy toddles off to join the others in the dining room. The kitchen was spotless, everything having been cleaned up as he cooked alongside the girl who was now known as Astrid. He had asked her where she got her name from and she kindly stated:

“ _Myself, picked it out when I was nineteen got it legally changed when I finally got my surgery at twenty-one.”_

Desmond had to admit, Astrid was hilarious, the girl could throw out jokes left and right, but she couldn’t cook to save her life. 

“Damn, you said you could cook but I didn’t know that you could cook _cook._ Are you sure you’re a detective?” 

Desmond laughs and leans against the counter.

“Badge and gun say so! It was just me and my brother growing up so I had to learn to cook.” 

“Well, your brother is lucky, I’d kill to have you here to cook for us. Oh, those questions, what were you wanting to ask?” 

“Ah… Right, I was wondering if you had some old files, they would be a little over twenty years old now. There were two twin boys here? By the name of Patton and Virgil Talbot?” 

Astrid opens her mouth to reply, only for an elderly woman to speak over her. 

“Why do you want those two demon’s files for?” 

Desmond jumps and looks at the door that leads to the dining room, a woman that looks to be in her sixties stood in the threshold. Her grey hair was tied into a bun that sat at the base of her head, her brown eyes looked unfriendly. 

“Well? Speak, I’ve not gotten all day boy.” 

‘ _Speak up boy, you know hate damn mumbling.’_

“Um… W-Well, they’re suspects in a case I’m working. One of them even works with me, I was hoping to use their files to get to know them better.” 

The woman’s eyes stare into him, causing Desmond to shift uncomfortably but he keeps his ground while keeping his eyes locked onto hers. 

“Astrid, go get the files. They’re in my office, bottom left drawer in my desk.” 

Astrid mutters a soft yes ma'am as she rushes out of the kitchen, seems like Desmond wasn’t the only one that the woman gave a hard time to. 

“Let me warn you boy, those two? They’re monsters, but I’ve got a feeling their adoptive father was a monster too.” 

“What makes you say that? Is there anything in their file about their adoptive parents?” 

The woman snorts. 

“No, they were rich. They paid me to hurry the adoption process of the little demons and that was it. Told me to keep their first names private, or well the one with the moustache did at least. The skinny one kept quiet, the husband said he wasn’t right in the head.” 

Desmond furrows his brows and pulls his phone from his pocket, he unlocks it and opens the gallery pulling up a picture he took of Professor Logan Sanders showing it to her. 

“Was he the skinny one?” 

“Yeah, only he looked ill and he didn’t wear no tie. Had on women’s clothing, but I could tell he wasn’t like Astrid, he looked uncomfortable in them.” 

Desmond puts his phone back in his pocket, this Professor Logan Sanders was sounding more interesting by the minute. 

Astrid returns moments later, two files clutched to her chest. She hands them over to Desmond and offers him a small smile. 

“Thank you for helping me cook…” 

“You’re very welcome, remember what I told you, just follow the recipe and it’s easy.” 

Desmond watches as Astrid goes into the dining room, leaving him alone with her grandmother. 

“Don’t tell anyone about those files. I’m not supposed to give them to you without a warrant, but if it's something with those two heathens then I’m sure you have a probable reason for needing them.” 

Desmond nods and makes his way towards the door, he stops when the woman grabs his wrist. 

“Watch yourself boy, those two are slippery as snakes.” 

It was late when Desmond got home, his phone was filled with texts and missed calls from Roman. The texts asking if he wanted to join Roman for dinner and texts asking him if he was okay. Desmond sends him a text saying he’s fine and that he’d come for dinner tomorrow, making a promise to be the one who cooks. He laughs when Roman sends him three thumbs up and a heart eyes emoji. He always sent those whenever Desmond promised to cook. 

Desmond flops down on the couch, dropping the files down next to him. He checks the time and sighs, it was nine at night, this would be the time when Emi would be calling to ask him about his day. 

He shakes his head and picks up one of the files, it was Patton’s. He flips it open and sees a picture of Patton from when he was five paperclipped to the corner. 

The file had some information that Desmond already knew, Patton was born January 19th, 1988, his parents' names were Tabitha Angelina Talbot and Albert Jameson Talbot. He and his brother were taken from the home due to neglect and abuse, and after their father killed their mother. 

Desmond turns the page and blinks when a disciplinary page pops up, the first word he sees is ‘ _Arson,’_ he reads the page with furrowed brows. 

‘ _Patton claims the curtains catching fire wasn’t his fault, he blames it on one of the older children, but everyone claimed they saw him with the matches that were kept for the stove. There’s something wrong with the boy.’_

Desmond flips the page, another disciplinary report, only this one was about a kid having their arm broken. 

‘ _When asked about the incident, Patton claims innocence, that Johnathan fell by himself off of the monkey bars, but countless reports of other children say that Patton pushed him from the top because he made fun of Virgil and that had upset Patton.’_

Desmond flips through the rest of the files, there was nothing but disciplinary reports all of the beginning with assault or arson, the last paper was the adoption contract, the first names of their adoptive parents marked out with black sharpy. 

“So, Patton was violent…” Desmond mumbles as he sets the file aside, he picks up Virgil’s and flips it open. You could tell the two were twins, they shared the same facial structures and doe shaped eyes, only Virgil had a more fair complexion along with hazel eyes and dark brown hair. 

Desmond flips past the information file, to his surprise he saw a disciplinary report, if he was honest, Virgil didn’t seem the type to hurt people. 

‘ _He attacked a child, a young girl by the name of Cynthia Applegate. Virgil had taken a pair of scissors and tried to stab her eye out. Virgil claimed it was in self-defense but his art and crafts instructor said otherwise. That Virgil had attacked Cynthia with no cause, screaming that he would cut her tongue out, nearly succeeding.’_

“Damn… and people said _I_ was violent.” 

‘ _You were.’_

Okay, so he got into some fights, sue him. Maybe he broke a kid's nose, not his fault that people decided to pick on him. 

Desmond flicks through the rest of Virgil’s files, just like Patton’s it was filled to the brim with disciplinary reports until the final one which was a copy of his adoption papers. 

“Damn it… All this tells me is that they were troubled kids, people can change, there's no proof that they’re still like this… but… still wouldn’t hurt to warn Roman.” 

_Desmond loved the smell of peanut butter, it reminded him of happiness, it reminded him of when days were okay._

_“Want to lick the spoon, Des? Only my special helpers get that job!”_

_Desmond nodded excitedly as he took the spoon, before he could clean the spoon of peanut butter, a rough hand grabbed him by his strawberry blonde locks. A startled scream leaves his mouth as he looks up into matching brown eyes._

_“You little brat, what did I tell you about eating without asking first?”_

Desmond sits up with a start, his breath coming out in short bursts as he flicks his eyes around the darkroom. He grabs a strand of his with shaking fingers and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees brown instead of reddish blonde. 

He closes his eyes tight and takes a deep breath. 

“I-It’s okay… you’re okay… He’s in prison…” 

Desmond glances at his clock and groans, it read five in the morning or… he grabs his clock, the P.M. had a red dot beside it. 

“What!?” 

He throws the clock back down and rushes over to the curtains, cursing as he almost slipped as he jerks them apart. Sure enough, it was daylight out, the sun nearly setting. 

“Well… It’s a good thing I had today off…” 

Desmond flinches when his phone rings, he searches his covers and grabs the shrieking device. He accepts the call and puts the phone on speaker. 

“Yeah?” He answers, hating how raspy his voice sounds. 

“Are you sick? You sound terrible,” Roman replies from the other end. 

Desmond clears his throat. 

“No, no I’m fine, I just got up. And before you ask no, I didn’t have company over, I was just working late. Give me a bit to wake up and I’ll head over to start cooking, did you decide on what you wanted?” 

There was a pause.

“I want Emi’s favourite… Please?” 

“Lasagna with pepperoni?” 

Roman chuckles on the other end. 

“Yeah… and homemade garlic bread? I’ve… I’ve been thinking about him all day without Patton here to distract me…”

At the mention of Patton, Desmond tenses, he wasn’t sure how to tell Roman that he didn’t trust Patton, he was the one to send Patton Roman’s way. It made no sense for him to suddenly be suspicious. 

“Yeah… All right, you’ve got all that I need right?” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t ask for it if I didn’t. Pick up some wine on your way? Feel like having a drink.” 

Desmond wants to chastise Roman for the alcohol, but he couldn’t say anything. He remembers the bender he went on when Emile’s case was closed, ‘ _Just like him.’_

“Yeah, sure… White wine right?” 

“Yep… See you later Dee, drive safe.” 

Desmond snorts. 

“Aren’t I always? See ya later, Ro.” 

The atmosphere in Emile and Roman’s apartment was tense as they ate, it didn’t help that they had a mild argument while cooking. Roman didn’t care if the pepperoni was evenly placed, but Desmond did, cooking between them was a never-ending battle at times. Desmond sips at his water whilst Roman sipped his wine. 

“You need to be careful around Patton, I think he’s dangerous.” 

Roman blinks his blue eyes in surprise as he places his wine glass down. 

“Patton? You can’t be serious, Dee. Patton wouldn’t hurt a fly! Yeah, sure, there are times when he’s pushy and a bit clingy but that’s just his personality it’s fine. You’re just paranoid.” 

Desmond tenses and narrows his eyes at Roman. 

“Paranoid? _Paranoid?_ I have proof that he’s violent, or… well was violent, but still! He’s got an issue with arson, Roman, and assault!” 

“How do you know this? Have you been snooping in his personal life, Desmond?” 

Desmond felt his face heat up, he was not about to be scolded by his brother’s boyfriend. 

“He’s my assistant, of course, I looked into him! Look, just-be wary of him alright?” 

“Dee, seriously you’re being paranoid. Just like before when you thought I was hurting Emi and when you had the habit of checking your windows and doors. You… You need to step away from all of this a bit, please?” 

Desmond clenches his jaw, he resists the urge to tap the table. How could Roman say he’s being paranoid? 

“I’m not being paranoid. I know people like him, Roman, classic wolves in sheep's clothing.” 

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?” Roman asks. 

_Do you want to lick the spoon, Des? Only my special helpers get that job!_

_You little brat, what did I tell you about eating without asking first?_

_Good job, Des! Papa’s proud of you kiddo…_

_Get the fuck out from under that bed you little-!_

“Trust me… I know… just… just be wary okay? I’m gonna go, thanks for inviting me over.” 

Desmond leaves before Roman could apologize, he closes the door behind him and heads for his car. Once in the driver’s seat, the tears burning in his eyes manage to slip down his face. 

‘ _Stop crying before I give you something to cry for!’_

Desmond lets out a soft growl and roughly wipes his tears away. 

“I-I swear, I’ll get you for hurting my brother, Patton, even if its the last fucking thing I do.” 


	15. King of The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Holter will see you now ;)
> 
> And yes Remy /does/ have all of that at his "house"- the man is rich-...fucking rich people-

_May 7, 2012_

Emile could confidently say that he didn’t like getting ready to go to Remy’s home. He already hated everything to do with it. Virgil had forced him to get dressed in various homemade outfits, all cute and pastel - things Emile _liked_ but now could barely stand.

He hated it. He felt like he was _changing_ and it wasn’t _right_.

He wondered how Logan had changed. He’d mentioned a degree in astrophysics, right? Clearly Logan had been clever - he still was, but clearly he had once been more _obviously_ clever.

Emile hopes he never ends up like that.

“You look perfect, Bunny!” Virgil says with a grin, pulling Emile from his thoughts.

“Uh, thanks,” Emile manages to say, looking down at his outfit. A hooded dress that stopped a few inches above his knees, with rabbit ears on the hood. It was pastel pink, with dark pink details. Soft fabric, with fluff in the rabbit ears, and a small fluffy rabbit tail at the back.

It was adorable. It was something he would have happily worn before being kidnapped. But now he _hated_ it. It made his skin crawl. The pastel pink stockings and dark pink heels only made it worse. He felt like a dressed-up doll.

He reluctantly brings down his small suitcase, full only of other stomach-churning clothes, exchanging a look with Logan, whose body seemed to crumple into itself the closer to the car they got to.

It was worse when they finally got in the car to go. Remus forced Logan into a firm kiss, and Emile was pressed in the back between Virgil and Patton, who seemed to loom over him like hungry wildcats over a scared little mouse.

Logan was silent the entire ride, whilst Patton and Virgil talked excessively and excitedly about what they wanted to do once there. Emile was starting to think they were just messing with him. He could believe that there was an indoor pool and an outdoor pool, but the zoo and aquarium were just ridiculous.

“W-What does your uncle do for a living?” Emile asks finally, figuring he’d at least get a clue as to why he lived in the middle of nowhere with a large village for a house.

“He’s an assassin,” Virgil says with a grin.

“He’s a businessman,” Patton says, with an even brighter grin.

Emile decides that businessman made the most sense, although he could see Logan tense up, obviously uncomfortable.

“Right...thanks...”

Emile goes to look out the window, and then Virgil leans in to whisper in his ear.

“He really is an assassin. He had Papa’s parents killed cause he was a bitch, and he’ll have your brother killed if you’re a bitch, so you’d better be a good fucking bunny.”

And that, Emile, doesn’t question. He freezes up and is silent the rest of the way there.

Which wasn’t that far, because as it turned out, what Emile had thought was a fancy village up ahead really was Remy’s “house”.

Logan pulls Emile aside as the other three run off into the entrance hall, three servants coming to collect their bags.

“Remember. Don’t speak, don’t make eye contact...if you think it’s going to anger him, it probably will.”

And then Logan takes Emile into the hall, standing still at the back.

A broad-shouldered man comes into the room, muscled and well-groomed. A pair of black sunglasses hide his eyes, but not the black and red dragon tattoo that sweeps around one eye and down the side of his face. A sharp jaw and good but casual posture only adds to the air of confidence surrounding him. And despite being shorter than Logan, when he turns and looks at the man, he suddenly seems three feet taller.

“Hey, uncle!” Remus sprints over and hugs the man tight, “it’s good to see you!”

The man suddenly grins, and Emile notices how Logan purposefully stares down at the floor. His face is blank, and his body is far too relaxed. So relaxed that Emile would rather call it “hopeless”.

“It’s good to see you too - and of course our little Stormcloud and Patty Cake!” Remy - because of course this man could only be Remy, and Emile wasn’t sure how he hadn’t figured it out before - turns to the twins, who bounce in excitement.

“Uncle!! Look, I brought my soulmate!” Virgil says, pointing over to Emile, who looks up for a moment, only jerking his head down when Logan nudges him, in time for him to hear the four walk over.

“Head down, I see...well, I’m glad the slut’s been teaching him manners,” the man says dryly, “good to see you again, I’ve been missing that pretty face.”

Emile can’t quite see Logan’s face, but he can feel the heat as the man goes red in embarrassment. No - humiliation.

“And you...Emile Picani. How’s your brother doing? Go on, I give you permission to speak.”

Emile jumps, squeaking slightly, and Logan nudges him again. Right, he was given permission...

“H-He’s...he’s good. Sir! He’s good, sir!”

Emile doesn’t know how Remy knows Desmond, but if what Virgil said was true...he’s not leaving anything for chance. He couldn’t bear the idea of his brother dying…

Remy laughs, and Logan shuffles closer to Emile, close enough to be able to gently squeeze his shoulder in reassurance.

“You have good taste, Storm-cloud!” Remy turns back to the other three, “he’s very pretty – and I see he dyes his hair like you do!”

“He does!” Virgil says with a grin, “I need to update his hair though...I’m thinking it should be a brighter pink…”

(Emile bristles at the idea that someone other than him could dictate his hair, and Logan squeezes his shoulder again.)

Remy nods, “he’ll – oh, slut, show Emile where he’ll be sleeping. And don’t make the servants carry your bags, they’re here to serve _people_ , not you two.”

Logan nods quickly and grabs his and Emile’s bags, followed by Emile’s arm, before walking out the hall and up the stairs.

As soon as they’re out of earshot Logan turns to Emile and whispers, “if we talk quietly, we’ll be fine...are you okay?”

Emile hesitates, grateful for the opportunity to speak but unsure of what to say.

“...he said the servants were there for _humans_ , and not _us_...he’s a dick…” he whispers, and Logan chuckles.

“He doesn’t consider us humans. More like property...once he called me a glorified sex slave.”

Emile doesn’t ask about the context of that comment, and Logan doesn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he just leads Emile up another flight of stairs, and through a set of large ornate doors. It leads into a large lounge-like area, with three doors.

“This is the residential wing,” Logan explains, “or, that’s what he calls it. It’s for my saviour, Virgil, and Patton. Be careful not to get mixed up with the guest wing. Or his own wing...but that one’s locked, so you should be safe…”

“...I think I might end up getting lost,” Emile admits, “lost and confused…”

Logan nods then hums thoughtfully.

“Stick with me or Virgil until you’re used to it,” he suggests, “now...each room is set out in a similar way. Let me show you my saviour’s room…”

Logan goes over to the far left door and opens it up to show a room bigger than Emile’s apartment.

“...This is a _room?_ ” Emile demands, looking around at the golden chandeliers, the king-sized bed with a disgusting green bed cover, and the tacky golden mirror above the headboard.

“It’s ridiculous,” Logan admits, “the whole house is like this…”

He places his suitcase down beside the bed and indicates across the room to two gilded doors. Green and gold - it looked like someone had thrown up on the doors and tried to cover up the worst spots with gold paint.

“It’s real gold,” Logan clarifies, “just ugly placement…”

The pair walk over, and Logan opens the first door, showing a large and fancy bathroom.

“Virgil’s room will be the same sort of layout,” he says, “but unless he says you’re allowed, you can’t use their bathroom…”

Emile blinks, then frowns and pulls a face. “How do I use the toilet then?” he asks, “do I just - go find one? I doubt _that’s_ allowed!”

“You’re right,” Logan tells him dryly, shutting the door, “...you’ll be expected to use the soulmates quarters.”

And with that Logan opens the second door.

The room inside is barely six by six feet. Emile knows for a fact it’s not as long or wide as Logan is tall, that’s for sure. There’s something _resembling_ a mattress on the floor, but it’s stained, dirty, and foul-smelling. The only other thing in the room is a small chest, and Emile doesn’t want to know what’s inside.

“...You sleep in here?” Emile asks tentatively, unsure of how to phrase _what the fuck_ without upsetting Logan.

“Oh, no,” Logan says, to Emile’s surprise, “not unless I’ve done something wrong. My saviour likes me being in bed with him, so this is reserved for using the toilet and milder, general punishments.”

“...That’s...disgusting…”

“I know.”

Logan shuts the door, and Emile tries to collect his thoughts.

“...how come we can’t smell it from here?” he asks finally.

“I have _no idea_...come on, let’s show you to Virgil’s room. Don’t worry, he’ll want you in bed with him too. Your soulmate quarters will be for similar uses as mine.”

Emile makes sure to stick close to Logan, he knew that he wouldn’t get lost just by walking across the hall, but he didn’t want to take any chances of possibly doing that or messing up. Logan moves over to the door that was to the right of a pastel blue one, obviously, that was Patton’s room, he opens the dark purple door and allows Emile to step in before him. 

The room _screamed_ stereotypical goth, but stereotypical goth with a bit of flair, or maybe goth with a Victorian vampire movie flair. Like Remus, Virgil had a chandelier only it was black with purple… 

“Are those real amethyst hanging from the chandelier?” Emile asks. 

Logan sighs heavily, “Yes… They’re a hassle to clean because Virgil wants them unhooked from the chandelier and polished by hand… Sorry, but I do not envy you on this.” 

Logan chuckles when Emile lightly smacks his arm. 

“Rude! But um… He really overdid it huh?” 

The walls were painted black, an extreme difference from Remus’ eggshell white. Various pieces of gruesome art were hung on the wall, along with fake spider webs, at least Emile hoped they were fake. 

“Why is it so hard to see in here?” 

“Virgil insisted he needed a black light instead of a normal light… something about it completing the aesthetic.” 

Emile nods and glances over, he sees the two doors that were similar to the one in Remus’ room. Virgil’s bathroom door was a purplish-black color and the soulmate’s door was… silver?

“Why… Is my door silver?” 

“That wasn’t Virgil’s choice, it was Sir’s. He said gold wouldn’t go with the colours Virgil had picked so he made his silver… Patton’s is worse, it's rose gold, and that’s because he picked it out without anyone knowing.” 

Emile wanted to argue that rose gold wasn’t a bad colour, only to have a knock at the door to interrupt and startle him and Logan. 

They both turn and see a timid maid standing in the threshold, Emile was jealous that she was allowed to wear a proper uniform while he was stuck in clothes that a hooker would wear. 

“Sir has requested both of your presence…” 

Emile felt Logan tense up beside him, he quickly placed his suitcase down before Logan could drag him out of the room. He glances back and watches as the maid closes Virgil’s door. 

“I forgot about family time… They always sit down for a home movie once everyone gets settled.” 

“This is settled? We haven’t even unpacked yet!” 

Logan stops and looks at Emile. 

“If we were around sir, just as you said that you’d been punished for complaining. I told you I’ll protect you the best I can, but you need to learn self-control, _please.”_

Emile sighs and shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay… I’m sorry.” 

Logan gives him a quick hug before pulling him back downstairs, the Holters stood at the bottom. The twins and Remus all shared a grin, while Remy held a firm frown on his face. 

“You took your precious time, you know that we have family time around this time when you visit. You’re teaching Emile bad habits, don’t let it happen again, slut.” 

Logan bows his head, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry sir…” He mumbles. 

Remy relaxes and allows a small smile to form, Emile didn’t trust that smile… nor did he like how familiar it looked. He also doesn’t trust that Logan spoke just then. He’d have to ask about that later.

But the way Remy places a hand on the small of Logan’s back to guide him over to Remus made his skin crawl.

Maybe Logan wasn’t going to get away with it?

Emile tries to keep close and overhears the tail end of Remy whispering to Logan.

“-speak without me saying you could, slut-”

Emile wants to say something and might have if he wasn’t scared of the consequences.

“Hey, star,” Remus says suddenly, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist, whilst Virgil drags Emile close. “We’re going to watch some of Remy’s home movies!”

Logan tenses up, and Emile starts to panic as he’s dragged into a room with a large full-screen TV and two comfy sofas.

“You’ll sit on my lap, right, Bunny?” Virgil asks, sitting on one sofa.

“He gets scared of horror,” Patton points out, “just sit him between us so he can hide against you easier.”

Emile doesn’t like the sound of that, or that Patton knew he was scared of horror, but doesn’t argue, sitting between them and trying not to cling to Virgil. As much as he hated Virgil, the urge to cling on and hide his face refused to budge. Logan follows Remy and Remus, who spend a moment bickering gently over where Logan should sit.

In the end, Remus stretches out over the sofa, and Remy has a servant bring in a second one, which he stretches out over and has Logan lie on top between his legs.

“Which one first?” the servant asks, not seeming to care about how uncomfortable Logan looks.

“Hm...try the one with the club’s security guard. Patty-Cake and Storm-cloud helped inspire that one!” Remy glances at the twins proudly, “put it on and then leave.”

“Yes, Mister Holter.” The servant puts the DVD on and then leaves.

Emile tenses up as it begins, a video of a young man being whipped. The footage is exceptional quality, so good that it’s not until Remy speaks that Emile realises it’s real.

Meanwhile, Logan knew from the start it was real.

“Do you remember, slut, that security guard who tried telling me my friends were finished with you when they weren’t?” Remy asks, stroking Logan’s hair in an almost affectionate manner. “Go on, speak. We’ll gag you afterward, for now, I just want you to enjoy the movie...so, _do_ you remember?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good, because I was looking forward to you finding out his fate.”

Logan winces, and then Remy pulls his head up, forcing him to close his eyes to avoid contact.

“And if I ever have reason to believe you’re talking to my staff, I’ll fuck you with a loaded pistol,” Remy hisses, quiet enough that only Logan hears, “got that, slut? _Speak_.”

Logan nods quickly, wincing at the sound of the man screaming. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Emile, meanwhile, buries his face into Virgil’s side, desperate to avoid watching the torture. He can hear something burning, can hear the man plead for death, and hears what he thinks is the sound of a bone-breaking. Patton cheers and Virgil claps. Remus and Remy talk about ways to improve for next time. And Emile stays still as a statue, trying to ignore it all.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this visit. He turns to look at Logan, hoping to exchange a reassuring glance. But Logan is simply shoved over to Remus, who pulls him close like a rag doll.

If Logan had been something close to broken before, he now seemed utterly so, head low, Remus holding his head up whilst placing a gag into his forced open mouth.

The sight makes Emile feel sick, and he turns back to Virgil and Patton, just to distract himself from the knowledge that this “holiday” could only be horrific.

It was fine, though. Desmond would come and get him…

...Right?


	16. Bribery in The High Degree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CLUES BABBYYYYY

_May 7, 2012~Desmond's pov~_

Desmond threw himself into things easily. His brother would suggest he should see someone to handle it, but as far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter. Especially not right now.

He _had_ to throw himself into this case.

Which this was no ordinary case, no, if it were he wouldn’t put so much effort, ‘ _You mean obsess’_ into it. This case had his brother involved in some way, Desmond wasn’t sure how Emile fit into these Holters or this Professor Logan Sanders, but he had a strong feeling it was all tied together. 

There was just one thing holding him back, Patton and Virgil Holter’s adoption. He had enough proof to know that Logan Sanders was one of the men to adopt the two, he just needed to find out who this R. Holter is and then he could question them both in the disappearance of his brother. 

“But how… I can’t get those documents without a proper warrant and the captain already said I was skating on thin ice…” He mumbles as he skims over the documents that were previously given to him. 

Desmond stares down at the name that was signed at the bottom of one of Patton’s disciplinary sheets, ‘ _Melda S. McKeenley.’_ Reading the name sent off a light bulb in Desmond’s head. 

“The caretaker! I can just ask her, she didn’t like the twins so she might tell me what I need to know… It’ll be worth a shot.” 

Desmond was glad that he had tomorrow off, his boss would be too suspicious if he were to question Mrs. McKeenley whilst he was working. 

“I’m getting close Emi… I promise.” 

That morning Desmond awoke early, for once he didn’t need his alarm clock or a nightmare to get him up. He takes the time to tidy his apartment, scrubbing everything down at least three times before eating a light breakfast and getting dressed. 

He goes around checking the windows before leaving the apartment, closing the door behind him, and locking the deadbolt three times before leaving for his car. 

“If I play my cards right, I should be able to get the information I need. It shouldn’t be too hard, maybe if I win Astrid on my side it will make things easier.” Desmond mumbles as he jogs up the orphanage steps a small Tupperware clutched tightly in his right hand. 

He goes to knock on the door, only for it to swing open before he could get the chance. 

“What do you want now? I gave you what you asked for.” Melda McKeenley snaps as she holds the door open, her brown eyes narrowed into a glare. 

Desmond laughs nervously and shifts his weight. 

“I was hoping to ask a few more questions, I brought cookies to break the ice. My own recipe! They’re quadruple chocolate chip cookies with a surprise in the middle!”

Desmond hopes that the promise of cookies wins the woman over, cause if looks could kill right now he’s sure he would be dead. 

“I told you, I can’t say nothing else,” Melda tells him, “...but come in, cookies are always welcome here.”

Desmond grins and walks in, the Tupperware was taken from him almost immediately.

“Astrid!” Melda calls, “that detective is back, and we have cookies for the kids!”

Melda takes one out, however, and takes a bite, passing the rest to Astrid when she comes down.

“Um, there’s only-”

“We don’t have many kids here right now,” Melda interrupts him.

“It’s true,” Astrid smiles, “only twelve. We had a few more last time you were here, but they’ve gone into foster care or been adopted...orphanages aren’t as popular as they once were, you know?”

“I didn’t...were they popular back when the Talbot twins were here?” Desmond asks the question, broaching the subject with only a little more subtlety than, say, an elephant entering the room.

Melda narrows her eyes at him, and Astrid cuts in quickly, saying that she too was curious about the state of the place twenty years back.

“You would take his side,” Melda mutters, “go and give the cookies to the kids. I’ll think about it.”

Desmond is relieved that she’s thinking about it, and doesn’t protest when Astrid half drags him along with her.

“The kids are in the courtyard right now,” Astrid tells him, “uh, are there any peanuts in these, by the way?”

Desmond shakes his head. He had been careful to avoid the most current allergies, just in case Melda had something. He hadn’t expected the cookies to be given to the kids, however, and mentions this.

“Yeah, my grandma’s strict, sure, but she’s a good lady,” Astrid says warmly, heading through a set of heavy doors to an open courtyard, with several kids running around in. “She’s been taking care of me since my parents died, you know? And she really cares about these kids…”

Desmond nods thoughtfully, smiling as the kids run over eagerly, taking cookies and bickering over who got the biggest one. He can’t help but laugh when a tiny four-year-old grabs it whilst the other eleven are distracted. They seemed less creepy in this environment.

“Cleo’s our little troublemaker,” Astrid tells him, clearly trying not to laugh when the other children realise what happened, “but she’s a sweetheart.”

Desmond nods, watching the children finish off the cookies. They all looked happy and well-fed. The youngest - Cleo - had run off to follow some of the older children, who didn’t seem bothered by her presence. The oldest seemed to be a young teenager with faded pink hair and gold hoop earrings, sitting next to a wannabe punk kid in a purple power wheelchair. Everyone in between seemed fine with playing - whether on the monkey bars, with hula hoops, skipping rope, or simply sat on a grassy patch reading.

“Looks like you lot take good care of them...is it just you and your nan?” he asks, not wanting to admit his slight jealousy of the kids’ happiness.

“At the moment,” Astrid admits, “usually we have a couple of others who help out. One’s this volunteer who’s a sweetheart, and is just taking a break to recover from some traumatic life events...but he does creative classes with the kids. Drama, painting, writing, you name it…”

Desmond nods, wondering why that sounded familiar to him.

“The other’s on holiday at the moment, but they’re studying childcare at college, so they use this as experience and stuff.”

“I see…” Desmond smiles, “sounds like this place is run well.”

Astrid nods and hesitates.

“Look,” she says, voice hushed, “my grandma won’t tell you this, but when I came here, I was eight years old, and the twins were only a couple weeks from adoption. I don’t remember much - like I said, only knew them for a couple of weeks - but the skinny guy who came to adopt them was the first man I saw wearing a dress, I remember him.”

“You do?” Desmond asks, perking up before lowering his voice, “what do you remember?”

Astrid thinks carefully for a moment. “Tall, pale...he looked, well, he looked like he had some kinda eating disorder, to be honest. He didn’t say anything whilst he was there, and he looked so...distant…”

“Distant?”

“Yeah. I mean, I remember thinking that he probably did have something wrong with him, you know?”

Desmond nods and breathes deeply. “Do you remember his name? Was it said at all?”

Astrid’s face scrunches up as she tries to remember.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she admits, “his husband just called him some kinda nickname...I think it was space-y…”

“Star.”

Melda had agreed to answer questions - just a couple, she insisted. And Desmond had, of course, led with what the husband was nicknamed.

“Star?” he repeats, “...did you know why?”

She shakes her head, putting a sugar cube into a cup of tea for herself.

“I didn’t ask, and the man never said anything in response, so I have no way of knowing.”

Desmond nods slightly and thinks carefully before his next question.

“Do you remember what their names were?”

Melda narrows her eyes slightly. “R Holter and L Holter,” she says crisply, “I told you before, boy, I was told to keep their first names private. You already know about Logan Holter anyways, right?”

“Yes, but...what about R Holter?” he asks, almost desperately, “please, it’s - it’s related to _two_ kidnapping cases.”

Melda goes quiet, then sighs softly.

“One of our kids - they’re lovely if a bit ditzy - they came here after their parents vanished one day. Police think kidnapping was involved…” she bites her lip, suddenly looking gentler than before, “...I _really_ can’t give Holter’s first name - really - trust me - but...we all knew of Logan back then.”

“You did?”

“Sure. He was well-liked in the community. Then one day he vanishes, about six months later his parents are murdered, and then two years after he disappeared he was rescued from some unknown kidnapper.”

“Can you tell me anything else?” Desmond asks desperately, “please, it might help me…”

Melda nods slowly, glancing aside before looking back at him.

“There were a lot of rumours about it all. But he was never the same after returning. He was a fancy professor, you know? Worked at our local university - it’s still there today - in the science department. Did a lot of tutoring for high schoolers, even offered his time here on weekends.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Desmond muses.

“He was,” Melda agrees, “but after he returned...he barely left home, never spoke...honestly, after he and his husband moved homes, most of us barely saw him at all. I haven’t seen him or even heard of him in over a decade now.”

Desmond nods, and thanks her before leaving, making sure to promise Astrid to keep in contact. He had another place to check - the science department at the local university. Someone there had to know something about Logan Sanders, right?

“You? Going to a university?” Roman asks with a snort when Desmond calls him up. He seemed more relaxed than he was the other day, even though Desmond knew he wasn’t doing so well.

“It’s just for the investigation,” Desmond insists, “just - do me a favour, don’t tell Patton?”

He hears a sigh down the phone.

“I told you, Des, Patton’s not so bad. Actually, he...gave me the idea to put aside some of Emile’s things…”

Desmond freezes, his blood turning to ice in his veins as he tries to work through what Roman just said.

“You’re doing _what?”_

“Not much!!” He can hear the panic in Roman’s voice. “Just...it’s painful to see so much of _him_ around, Des. And I’m not getting rid of anything. I’m just-”

“You’re acting like he’s _dead_ ,” hisses Desmond, trying to breathe deeply, tapping against the phone anxiously, “he’s not dead, Roman, he’s - he’s coming back!”

“I know,” Roman says, although his voice sounds so dejected that Desmond simply isn’t convinced, “it’s just a small box, Des. A couple of his clothes, one of his Stitch plushes-”

“Don’t you dare do anything to those,” Desmond snaps, gripping the phone tight, “Roman, he’s coming back, you don’t have the _right-_ ”

“I’m not doing anything wrong!” Roman’s voice wavers down the phone, “I told you, I’m-”

“You’re acting like a bitch-”

The words are out before Desmond can reel them back in, and Roman goes quiet at the other end.

“No, I’m sorry,” Desmond tries, “I didn’t mean-”

“Good luck at the university, Desmond.”

At the other end, Roman hangs up, tears in his eyes as he looks around his bedroom.

Emile’s favourite cardigan lies under the pink bed covers that Emile picked out. His variety of cartoon vinyl figures sat on the window sill next to Roman’s potted plant that Emile had nicknamed Mother Trees-a after his philosophy class had talked about the plants’ name inspiration.

Emile’s shoes under a chair, just as they always were, and a soft teddy bear that Emile had gotten Roman for their first Valentine's Day _on_ the chair. And when Roman lay back on the bed he could see “Emile loves Roman” on the ceiling, from when they moved in and Emile had sloppily written it on the ceiling in gold paint.

It had caused a mess, gotten over Roman’s hair, and Emile had doubled over laughing until Roman threw a splash of paint at him. It triggered a paint fight, and the two became too exhausted to continue with the apartment decorating that day.

Everything was _Emile_ here, and it hurt. It stung Roman’s heart, irritated the raw wound that was his absence.

And Desmond _dared_ call him names, make accusations, act like he wasn’t affected by all of this? No, Roman wanted Emile back, _desperately_ , and he’d happily let himself be kidnapped too if it meant Emile could be returned to them.

He wipes his eyes, picks up the cardigan from under the covers, and hugs it close to his chest as he curls into himself on the bed and cries hard into a pillow that still smelled just like Emile.

Desmond felt bad, but he had work the next morning, and he couldn’t spend tonight comforting Roman when his only current lead was the university. He could wait and ask questions later, but it seemed easier and more time-efficient to go through their old employment records and see if Logan’s name turned up, and if so if he could find any clues.

Although he wanted to find out who _R Holter_ was - searches for the name Holter only came up with bits he already knew, about Patton and Virgil, and articles from Logan’s suspicious rescue - he couldn’t deny being fascinated by Logan.

A university professor at, what, 20? Teaching some science-related subjects, no less! Tutoring on the side, helping out at an orphanage…

This was someone who had a bright future, and then after a two-year absence was, apparently, never the same. And Desmond hated that. He hated that someone could _do_ that to someone like this Logan Sanders.

And he was going to prove that the Holter family had a hand in that case as well as his brother’s. Who knew, if Logan was still alive, maybe he could rescue him as well.

Back to his present activities - breaking into a university wasn’t the easiest thing to do. The science building was a large redbrick building that surrounded a fountain with plenty of greenery. It was fancy, and fancy meant well protected.

However, Desmond could see a cleaner just outside, scrubbing some kind of graffiti off the wall, and he had his police badge on him.

“Excuse me, I got a call about suspicious figures inside?” he says, holding up his badge as he approaches the cleaner, who curses loudly as he jumps in surprise.

“Fuck, give a dude some warning!” he snaps.

Up close, Desmond could see the man was barely old enough to be in university, with three lip piercings on his lower lip and an oversized half-destroyed denim vest.

“Uh, sorry...um, are you the janitor, or…?” he suddenly feels awkward, no longer sure if the man - or kid, really - was actually employed, or just being punished for doing graffiti.

“Yeah.” The kid sneers at him. “Fam’s poor, so I have to try to pay my way somehow, right?”

“I guess,” Desmond remembers his relief at the stranger who paid for Emile’s tuition.

“Right. And listen, I’m the only fucking person here tonight, and I didn’t call a copper,” the kid snaps, clearly unimpressed with Desmond and his profession. “So fuck right off with your _I got a call_ nonsense!”

Desmond groans. Clearly he’d have to try another tactic.

“Kid, you smell of weed,” he says, honestly, “either let me into the building, or I take you in for possession of narcotics.”

The kid pauses before frowning.

“You wouldn’t. You can’t prove _shit._ ”

“One sniff of you and I wouldn’t need to, the whole department would know,” Desmond tells him bluntly. “Now let me in.”

The kid stares at him for a moment before giving in with an annoyed huff. He hands Desmond a key to the building. 

“There, you get ten minutes to get whatever the hell you need, then you leave because I could get fired for this and that won’t look good for me with the fam.” 

Desmond takes the key and promises that he won’t be long, he ignores the mumbled curses from the kid as he rounds towards the front of the building. He unlocks the door and blinks in surprise. 

The whole room looked like it was covered in dust as if no one had cleaned in here for a while. 

“Hey, doesn’t anyone use this building anymore?” Desmond calls, he tries not to snort when he hears the kid groan. 

“No, the building hasn’t been used since 92’, a benefactor of the university or something closed it down after that teacher went missing. You just wasted two minutes of your ten you better hurry.” 

Now it was Desmond’s turn to huff, today’s kids were just rude as hell, he couldn’t even get by with an F in history while these little hellions today could get by with murder. 

Desmond steps inside, closing the door behind him, he leaves the lights off as to not arouse anyone else's attention to the abandoned building. He uses the light on his phone to look around, the building was huge. 

The floor had an oak top, it was stained to look like mahogany, really it was plain and boring if Desmond had it his way he would give it an artistic flair. It was a science building after all, why not throw up some planets and stars along with chemicals and other sciency things! Give the place some colour gosh. 

“I suppose the place fits the teacher that occupied it… Professor Sanders looked like a boring fuddy-duddy.” Desmond mutters as he looks around, he had to admit the building was creepy, acting as if some type of time capsule. 

“Ya only got five minutes dude!” 

Desmond groans and walks over to the professor’s abandoned desk, if he wasn’t in a hurry he would be petty towards the kid, but he was a professional! Most of the time. 

He pulls out the top drawers of the desk, coughing when dust puffs up into his face. Desmond waves it away and begins to search through the drawers. Nothing but old lesson plans and pens, actually… 

“This is a sweet ass fountain pen! I’m sure no one would miss it.” 

Desmond pockets the pen and closes the drawers back, he tries to open the bottom left drawer but it won’t budge. 

“Damn… Locked, good thing that won’t stop me.” 

He bends to one knee, doing a quick scan of the room before positioning his phone at the edge of the desk. Desmond takes out his lock-picking kit and gets to work. Sue him, he had to learn some shit after his mother died! 

Desmond pokes his tongue out as he jiggles the pick, a soft ah-ha leaves his mouth when the lock clicks when he turns it. He pulls the drawer open and sees multiple files, each file has the name of a student on it. 

Desmond mumbles each name under his breath as he looks at each tag, his heart speeds up when he sees, _R. Holter_ written in the professor’s looping script. He pulls the file free and looks up when the door to the building swings open. 

“Alright, man times up ya really gotta go before I get caught.” 

Desmond quickly places his picking kit back in his suit pocket and stands up with the file clutched in his hand. He kicks the bottom drawer closed and picks his phone up. 

“Thank you for letting me in here, searching this place just gave me the lead I needed.” 

The kid rolls his eyes and huffs. 

“Whatever, could you get the fuck outta here now?” 

Again, today’s youth really wouldn’t have survived with his parents. 

“All of that fucking snooping and all I get out of it is a fancy-ass pen and a file that still doesn’t have a _fucking_ first name!” Desmond yells as he throws the file down onto his coffee table. Of course, the professor didn’t put the guy's first name, this is just great! Well, at least he had a picture, but there was no way this R. Holter looked like a string bean eighteen-year-old anymore, the guy doesn’t even look like he could hurt someone with how scrawny he looks! 

Desmond groans and drags his hands down his face, “What the hell am I supposed to do with a no-name suspect and a student ID-wait-...” 

Okay so maybe he wasn’t the smartest cookie in the jar, Emile got all the brains, don’t judge! 

Desmond snatches up his phone and dials Alvin, he hums impatiently as the phone rings, grinning when Alvin answers on the fourth ring. 

“Isn’t it your day off?” Alvin asks. 

“Yes, but that’s not important, could you do me favour?” 

Alvin sighs on the other end of the phone. 

“You already used your favour, Des.” 

“Please! Come on, if you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you like.” 

The line goes silent for a moment. 

“...You do both things I like and we do it this weekend at your place.” 

Desmond couldn’t help the grin that came to his face. 

“Deal!” 

Alvin lets out a sigh, Desmond knew that he had the techie wrapped around his finger, he also knew that he used that fact to his advantage a little too much but ya gotta do what ya gotta do. 

“Could you hack into the St. Thomas University database and lookup this student number for me?” 

“That’s a private school, Des, why are you looking into one of its students?” 

Desmond relaxes a bit when he hears Alvin click-clacking away on his keyboard. 

“Just a hunch on my brother’s case, and yes I know it was closed but you know me I don’t give up easily, are you ready for the number?” 

“Yeah… Des, don’t you think you’re obsessing a little?” 

Desmond ignores him, “The number is 267054, when you get the info send it to my email please?” 

Alvin sighs. 

“Yeah, just give me a second, see you this weekend, Des.” 

“Be sure to wear the shirt I like! See ya this weekend Alvie~.” 

Desmond hangs up the phone and grins, he was going to get what he needed, he just knew he was. 

A couple of minutes later, Desmond gets an email from Alvin, a student file attached to it with a note saying, ‘ _Be careful you idiot.’_

Desmond rolls his eyes and opens the file, he thought he was going to scream when he noticed the first name of R. Holter was marked out. Whoever was protecting this guy was taking every step needed to keep his identity secret. 

Desmond skims over the file, the guy’s high school grades were terrible, sure Desmond’s was worse but still, there was no way this guy got in purely on smarts. He scrolls down and stops when he sees the word tuition. 

_‘Students tuition was paid in full by an uncle and beneficiator, Remy T. Holter.’_

Desmond furrows his brows, that name sounded familiar to him. He minimizes the window with the file and pulls up a search engine, typing in the new Holter’s name. He got more links when it came to this man’s name. 

Many of them were articles about the man’s achievements, something that Desmond didn’t really care about, others were about scandals the man was caught in, and another was a website for the man’s… 

“Surrogate and adoption agency? That’s new.” Desmond mumbles as he clicks on the link, the first thing he sees is a picture of the owner. 

Desmond stares at the picture, the man struck a chord with him. 

“Huh… I must have learned about him in school once…” 

Desmond scrolls down ignoring the information that was present about the ‘Holter Association,’ a grin breaks out across his face when he sees a link that says, ‘Schedule a meeting.’ 

He clicks the link and groans, “This is going to take a while…” Big shot CEO’s were really thorough with who they met with. 

Half an hour later Desmond has his meeting request sent in, he should hear something in a day or two. Right now, he needs to make a phone call he’s been dreading since earlier today. 

“Oh, well hello, I didn’t know that you talked to people who act like a bitch so willingly! What can I help you with Desmond?” Roman asks when he answers the phone. 

Desmond sighs and bows his head. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to call you a bitch, I got worked up when I shouldn’t have… I know you’re not getting rid of his things I just… it makes it too real… I’m sorry Ro…” 

They both stay silent for a moment. 

“It’s… alright, I’m not getting rid of his stuff I just… I-I’m tired of crying so much, Dee… it _hurts…”_

“I know… and I’m sorry for not helping much… b-but I’ve got a lead! Just… don’t give up yet okay? I’m going to bring him home…” 

Roman sniffles, “Y-You better, just… be careful, if you’re working on this case alone and get caught you’re going to get in trouble.” 

“I’m always careful…” 

‘ _I have to, so I can bring him home…’_


	17. Curiosity Killed The Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satisfaction most definitely didnt bring it back

_May 8, 2012~Emile pov~_

The first night at Remy’s home could have been worse, at least for Emile. He woke up at six am, as usual with the Holters, in a bed far comfier than any he’d had before. Despite Virgil’s nigh-ridiculous decor choices, it was extraordinarily comfortable. It was a shame Emile had to sleep with Virgil in it, really.

He carefully peels Virgil’s arms off him, relieved to be out from the tight embrace the man had put him in to sleep. He proceeds to reluctantly get dressed into what he hoped would be “suitable clothing”.

Once ready he leaves the room to see Logan outside the door, no longer wearing a gag and smiling slightly.

“I was about to come in and wake you up...you dressed well, good work.”

His voice is soft, and his eyes have a faraway look to them. Emile wants to ask if he’s okay but decides against it. 

“Thanks… I don’t really see how this is appropriate either…” Emile mumbles as he holds up the edge of his pastel pink ruffled skirt. 

“Sir, sees just about any form of dress clothes as presentable… I’m sure you’ve noticed how he dresses… Let’s get downstairs, sir will be up soon and he’ll be wanting coffee.” 

Emile follows Logan as they both tread downstairs, he’s really glad that he didn’t have to make this trip alone, Emile is sure that he would get lost in this castle-like house.

“Is that a rule you forgot to mention?” 

“No, he’s just… unpleasant without coffee, while I’m setting up the coffee maker you start on breakfast, bacon first okay?” 

Emile mumbles a soft okay, he’s been getting better at cooking bacon, Virgil even praised him for it once! 

He shakes his head, ‘ _Stop it, it doesn’t matter that he’s praised you.’_

Once down in the kitchen the two separate to do their designated jobs, Emile makes quick work of putting the bacon on, honestly his brother would be proud of him with how far his cooking skills has improved. 

A couple minutes later Logan joins him, starting up the batter for some crepes. 

“Have you had crepes before?” 

“Once, but that was because I was my brother’s guinea pig. They didn’t really turn out right and I don’t think he ever tried to make them again.” 

Logan nods and hums softly. 

“So, your brother cooks?” 

“Oh, yeah. He cooks everything, which I mean everything. He’s always trying new things, he cooks practically every night. When he doesn’t have company over that is.” 

Logan stops and stares at him for a moment. 

“He really cooks that much?” Logan asks. 

Emile just chuckles, “Yeah… It gives him a way to relax…” 

Logan hums slightly again, turning the stove on and preparing to cook.

“I can’t imagine that,” he admits, “for me, relaxing is...was...reading a good book...or watching a documentary...if I could, I’d never cook again.”

Emile can understand that. Unlike Desmond, Logan was forced into it, and where Desmond could take his time with it, Logan was on a schedule. Emile decides not to comment, and works on the bacon, adding more as Logan instructs him to.

“Sir likes his meat,” Logan explains, “speaking of, be quiet, Sir will be down in…”

Logan goes silent and Emile follows suit, turning slightly to see Remy walk in, rubbing his eyes, which this time aren’t behind sunglasses.

“Slut, where’s the coffee?” he growls.

Logan hurries to the coffee, picking it up and bringing it over carefully. Remy doesn’t acknowledge Logan, except to grumble that it wasn’t _there_ when he came in.

“Not that I’d expect anything else from a slut…” Remy smirks suddenly. “Well, I _do_ …” 

Emile makes a face when he sees Remy swat Logan on the butt, he hates how the older man snorts when he causes Logan to spill some hot coffee on himself. Emile watches how Logan ignores the pain in favour of pouring Remy’s coffee. 

“Emile stop staring, didn’t your brother teach you that it’s rude to stare?” Remy speaks up, not even turning to look at Emile as he adds three tablespoons of sugar to his coffee along with some cream. 

Emile’s face heats up as he turns away, stopping himself from saying sorry so he doesn’t end up being gagged like Logan. 

He and Logan return to cooking, the silence is disturbed when Remy takes a sip of his coffee or when the man hums softly to himself to fill the silence. 

‘ _Why does that feel familiar…’_ Emile thinks as he takes the bacon from the pan, he glances over and watches as Logan skillfully folds the crepes after they’ve been filled with freshly made whipped cream and various fruits. 

Emile blinks when Logan gently nudges him, he looks up at him and watches as he nods his head at the bacon and then to Remy. Emile makes an ‘oh’ face as he takes a large portion of the strips of bacon from the pan and places them in a plate just for Remy. 

He makes sure to keep his head low as he carries the plate over to Remy, he places it down in front of him, but tenses when the older man grabs his wrist. 

“Outfit check, move over to my side of the table so I can get a better look.” 

Emile resists the urge to jerk away as he moves over to Remy’s right side. He closes his eyes tight when his head is tilted back by rough fingers. 

“You’re pretty young, how old are you? Speak.” 

“I’m um… twenty-four, sir.” 

Emile hears Remy click his tongue as he releases his hold on Emile’s chin. Emile tenses when he feels the older man lift his skirt, he wants to smack his hands away but knows better than to try something so reckless. 

“Did you pick these out or did Virgil? Speak.” 

“U-Um… I-I did, sir…” 

Remy hums again as he let’s the edge of the skirt go. 

“Good job, though… these clothes make you look like a baby…” 

Remy smirks and pinches Emile’s left cheek, causing the boy to flinch at the contact a little. 

“My little baby boy~,” he chuckles as he grabs his coffee and plate of bacon. 

Emile goes to ask what he means but is cut off by Remy, “You’re going to have a busy night ahead of you slut, so you better be on your best behaviour, got it? Speak.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy, have a nice date with Virgil today baby boy~.” Remy laughs as he walks out, leaving the two of them alone once more. 

“What did he mea-.” 

Emile is cut off with a soft oomf when someone crashes into him from behind. A tight embrace wraps itself around his waist as someone lifts him up from the floor. 

“Good morning bunny! It’s date time!” Virgil exclaims. 

Emile looks at Logan panicked, silently asking the man for some help. 

“Um… Virgil don’t you think you should ea-.” 

“Shut up, papa, we’ll eat later. Don’t make me tell uncle Remy that you’re _yelling_ at me.” Virgil hisses, Emile deflates when Logan turns back to the food they were cooking. 

Virgil perks up and drags Emile out of the kitchen. 

“Uncle said the zoo and aquarium wasn’t ready yet, so we’ll have to do our date inside the house! We can go swimming first, then we can go up to the fourth floor, that’s where the gaming room is, _then_ we can go into the theater, that’s on the first floor just past the library, this is going to be so fun!” 

Emile already felt tired. 

Emile rushes down the stairs, he made a bad mistake, he shouldn’t have hit Virgil but he _told_ him to quit with the biting, it was a reflex! His heart was racing as he pushes his way into a wing that he wasn’t familiar with. He speed walks down the hall and stops when confusion floods through him. 

There were only two rooms on this wing and they were right across from each other. 

“BUNNY!” 

Emile jumps when he hears Virgil yell, opting to go into the room to his left. He stops in the threshold of the room and blinks. This room was way more expensive looking than Remus’ and the twins _combined._

The walls were painted black like Virgil’s, only it had silver accents instead of purple. A large golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, amber crystals hung from it, Emile was sure that if he had the light on the crystals would reflect against the wall. 

In the center of the room was a large four post bed, Emile was sure that it was a king size. A black comforter laid over the bed, with black and white pillows laying at the top. 

Emile glances back before stepping inside when he didn’t see anyone around. The room looked unused, but it still smelled like citrus cleaner. The room had a dresser with a mirror, a chest that held a TV that was bigger than the one Emile and Roman had in their living room, a desk with an expensive laptop sitting on it. He would take a chance and use it, but knew better since he was sure Remy had any and all things here monitored. 

Unlike the other bedrooms, this room didn’t have a soulmate’s quarters it only had a bathroom that was bigger than Virgil’s room, and a walk in closet that was filled to the brim in suits and casual clothes for a man about his age, along with hundreds of shoes, most of them being converses of different colours and dress shoes. 

“Who needs that many shoes?” Emile mumbles as he trails his fingers over the toes of a pair of dark blue converses. 

“None of your damn business, that’s who.” 

Emile tenses and spins around, Remy stood a couple feet from him next to the bed. His eyes narrowed in hateful glare. 

“I-I… I-I didn’t, I-I’m sorry!!” Emile cries. 

He forces himself to stand still as Remy marches over, the older man grabs him by the wrist and pulls him out of the room. 

“Come home for a quick break from the office and what do I _find?_ A nosy little bitch snooping around _my_ wing of _my_ house!” 

Emile felt his panicking rise as they left Remy’s wing of the house. 

“I-I’m s-sorry! I just g-got lost!! I-I didn’t mean to go into your wing or-or your b-boyfriends room!” 

Remy stops, causing Emile to bump into his back. 

“It’s my _sons,_ room, you idiot. He’s away for work right now, you’ve just earned yourself triple the punishment, going on my wing, and breaking two of my rules.” 

Emile gulps as he’s pulled down the stairs. 

“What’s going on? Sir why are you dragging Emile like that?” Logan asks as he walks towards them. 

Remy ignores him at first before Logan grabs him by the wrist. 

“R-Remy, why are you dragging h-him like that?” 

Emile tenses up and stares at him with wide eyes. 

“ _What_ did you just call me, slut?” Remy asks. 

Logan tenses and takes a faltering step back, he takes a breath before lowering his head. 

“I-I’m sorry sir, b-but why are you dragging him?” 

Emile watches as Remy stares at Logan for the longest time before he answers, his tone sent a chill down Emile’s spine. 

“He went into _my_ wing, into a guest room that’s on my win-.” 

“G-Guest?... You s-said it was your son's room.” Emile says. 

“A son?” Logan echoes, clearly as surprised as Emile, “you don’t-”

“The next person to talk without permission is going to get more than a fucking gag,” Remy snaps.

The threat shuts them both up, they watch as Remy tries to regain his composure. When he begins to drag Emile again Logan gets in the way. 

“P-Punish me instead, it’s my fault, I should have shown him around better. And I was the one to leave your wing unlocked, so punish me, not him…” 

Remy groans and shoves Emile away, causing him to land on the floor, all his weight going onto his bad knee, crunching sickeningly beneath him.

“Consider this your first and only fucking warning, _baby boy._ Let’s go slut, we’re getting this done before I have to go back into work, I’m thinking forty lashes.” 

Emile watches helplessly as Logan is dragged away. 

“S-Sir, why did you tell him you had a son? You don’t have one-...” 

Logan winces when the shackles around his wrists tighten, he hears Remy huff behind him before the older man cuts his shirt down the middle, causing the material to flutter open. 

“That’s what you think, now I expect you to count. If you mess up we start over, understood?” 

Logan could feel himself trembling as he slowly nodded, he’s not sure what whip his sir had chosen, but he was sure it was one of the worst ones. 

The first lash was always the worse, barbs dug into his skin, causing blood to flow freely down his back. 

“O-One…” 

He has to stay relaxed, tensing up will only make it hurt worse, he closes his eyes when the next lash comes. 

“T-Two…” 

He should be used to this, but no matter how many times he was whipped the pain always felt new, it always felt like the first time when he was punished like this. 

The counting and lashes blurred together, Logan wasn’t sure what number they had made it to. 

“Too bad slut, you only had one more to go! Let’s start over.” 

Tears were streaming down his face when the whip picks up again, a strangled sob left him. 

“O-One!” 

By the time the lashings were over his back felt as if someone had spilled molting silver over him. When Remy tilts his head up by his jaw, Logan makes sure to close his eyes to avoid eye-contact. 

“What do you say slut? I’d hate to give you forty more.” 

“T-Thank you, sir,” Logan mumbles.

Logan whimpers when Remy squeezes his jaw. 

“Look at me, _Logan.”_

He tenses and forces his eyes to open, his dark brown met molting grey as Remy glared hatefully at him. 

“A-Aren’t we done s-sir?” 

“Oh, my stupid little slut… this is only the fucking beginning.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not Saturday but I felt like updating early :3


	18. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy gets his own chapter!!

_May 8, 2012~Remy's pov~_

Remy was frustrated, he expected his break to have been spent relaxing, but no he found Emile snooping through his house, had both him and Logan disobey him, and had to dish out punishment when really all he wanted was a coffee and some alone time with Logan. 

“What a fucking waste,” he mumbles as he strides into his office. His assistant, a pretty blonde who’s name he always forgot, he was sure it was Allison, chirped a happy welcome back, Mr. Holter! As she handed him a stack of papers that always managed to grow every time he had his break. 

“You have a meeting at four, sir. Those are the newest applicants for a surrogate and even an application from a young girl who wants to be a surrogate.” Allison explains, Remy offers her a polite smile. 

“Thank you… Allison, you’re dismissed.” 

Remy ignores when she meekly says that her name is Claire, he didn’t pay her to know her name. He closes the office door behind him and drops the applications down onto his desk. 

The application on top had a picture of a husband and wife, they looked to be in their thirties. The husband had dark brown hair and dark eyes, while the wife had black hair and blue eyes, a couple similar to them came to him a little over forty years ago. 

_Remy could tell just by looking at the couple in front of him that they weren’t stupid, not like the ones he dealt with before. The man wore a suit, his dark hair pushed back, the woman wore a pale blue dress with white polka dots, her black hair was tied into a tight bun._

_“So, you want a kid, hm?” Remy asks as he pulls a cigar from his jacket pocket._

_“Um, sort of. We want to have a child, but my wife is infertile.”_

_“Completely.” His wife adds sadly, honestly, they acted as if Remy actually cared._

_Remy smirks and lights his cigar taking a long draw and blows the smoke out, ignoring how the two of them cough. He opens the drawer on his desk and takes out a green folder, bold letters spelled out ‘List of Surrogates.’_

_“That’s not uncommon…”_

He chuckles to himself. Who would have known another normal day would have led to so many good things? For him, that is. He didn’t even really care if it wasn’t good for others. He and his family were the important ones.

“Mr. Holter, Mr. Valez is on the phone, do you want me to patch him through?” Claire (see? He remembered!) said as she pushed the office door open a bit. Remy just waves his hand. 

“I’ll call him back later, I need to get through this paperwork before that meeting.” 

Claire nods and leaves him alone once more, Remy flicks through the applications, scribbling approved on the first four, until he runs across an application for a family that had a history of drug abuse. 

“Honestly, you’re going to try and get a child from _me_ , when you’ve got serious issues? Fat chance.” Remy mumbles as he scribbles denied, tossing the application into a trash can next to his desk. 

He wouldn’t put a child through that type of pain, not after… Oh well, Remy hums as he flips through more applications, the couple from before sneaking back into his thoughts. 

_“What’s the catch in all of this? There’s no way you do this for free…”_

_Remy smirks and leans back in his chair like he said these people weren’t stupid, not like all the others who were greedy._

_“There is a catch, yes. I want your firstborn, once they turn twenty-five. You can have all the kids you want, and I’ll even give you a start-up house and grant, so your children grow up in a decent home, with some money to help. But your firstborn is mine, at twenty-five.”_

_The two of them stare at him for a moment, the room was growing tense._

_“Why?” The man asks, “Why would we do that and why do you want them?”_

_“Simple,” Remy replies, “one of my businesses runs on training young people for...service. And this is a good way. You get kids, and when one becomes twenty-five, they work for me.”_

_‘In many ways than one…’_

_The couple is silent for a moment, before the woman speaks up, “What sort of service? I’m starting to think you’re a criminal…”_

_Remy couldn’t help but laugh, his laugh his short as he grins taking another drag from his cigar._

_“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t suggest going to the cops. If I were in a good mood, you’d be dead the moment you considered it. If I were in a bad mood...well, we won’t go there. Your firstborn would go into the service industry, helping rich and successful people with their needs.”_

_Remy loves watching the colour drain from people’s faces when he tells them this little tidbit._

_“What sort of needs?” The man asks, Remy only smirks._

_“No deal,” his wife says as she stands up, “we’re not selling our child into slavery. We’ll work something else out.”_

_Her husband nods and stands with her, ‘Well this just won’t do now will it?’_

_“I wouldn’t if I were you. I can and will make your life a living hell. Or, you could enjoy a comfortable life with all the children you want...”_

_The two of them tense up before looking at each other, they both nod and slowly sit back down._

_Remy’s grin broadens as he takes out a contract and slides it across his desk along with two pens._

_“Just sign here, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders…”_

Remy groans when his phone rings, he pulls the device from his pocket and presses talk. 

“This better be good if you’re calling me from my day job.” 

“Sorry sir, one of the dolls got sick, was wondering if the slut would be working tonight to fill-in?”

Another groan leaves his mouth as he leans his head back, this was just perfect, first, some druggies were trying to wiggle their way into his business, now one of his dolls was down. 

“No, the slut won’t be working tonight. He ran into a bit of an… issue. I’ll stop by later to get everything back in order. As for the doll that’s sick I’ll send in a doctor to take a look at it, alright?” 

Remy hangs up the phone before his employee could reply. He huffs in annoyance and rubs his temples, ‘ _Today could have been easy had it not been for Emile.’_

Anything that had to do with Logan always ended up so complicated…oh, he liked having the man around, yes. He was useful for his business, and he was fun to punish and _play_ with. And he made his nephew happy. And oh, if not for having gotten married, Remus probably wouldn’t have thought to adopt the twins.

So yes, he liked having Logan around, even if most would consider his reasoning “twisted”, “sick”, or, as Logan himself had once said accusingly, “that of a monster”. But it didn’t mean things didn’t have a tendency to get _complicated_. Like the time Logan bit one of his clients.

(Though he _did_ enjoy punishing him for that. Logan’s chest and thighs had ended up ripped into ribbons, scratches, and cuts and welts that reached out like branches of a tree.)

Of course, it didn’t help that Logan’s hand had been twitching in some odd way since arriving yesterday. He usually wouldn’t care, but he didn’t want Logan to have trouble gripping or holding things. It could cause trouble, and he could drop things. If he dropped one of Remy’s nice plates, Remy might just break a few of his bones.

He sighs and scrawls down a memo to himself: _call doctor - Logan._

Remy may not care about the people his family decided to marry, but he still noticed things. He noticed how Emile had a limp, just the tiniest one, and that Virgil had to slow down at times for him. He noticed that Logan carried his coffee with one hand that morning, winced when holding a plate with the twitching hand.

And all of that was fine, so long as it didn’t either: a, upset his family, or b, interfere with his business.

Of course, that was par for the course when it came to Logan, really, wasn’t it? 

_Remy stood in front of the dark blue door, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he knocked once more. He knew this trip was a waste, he knew where their precious little son was, but he had an issue with people that tried to screw him and meddle with his affairs._

_The door swings open right when he was about to knock again, standing in the threshold was Mrs. Dorothy Sanders. She still looked the same as she had twenty-three years ago, only there were a few more wrinkles in place and new strands of grey hair._

_Remy smirks when the colour drains from her face, he pushes her inside, turning her around as he does, her back to his front as he jabs a gun into the small of her back._

_“We’re going to walk into the living room and have a chat, I already know that your husband is in there. You both are going to sit down and listen, do I make myself clear?”_

_Dorothy gulps and shakily nods, she and Remy walk into the living room. When James Sanders stands from his chair, Remy points the gun at him and gestures for him to sit back down._

_“Well, this is a lovely reunion between us three isn’t it?” Remy asks once the couple is settled down onto the loveseat together. Remy chose to sit in the armchair across from them, his gun laying neatly on his left leg._

_“L-Logan isn’t here, s-so you can’t take him!” Dorothy exclaims._

_“Oh, sweetie, I already have him. Yes, somewhere nice and secluded, your son made quite the impression on my nephew ya know.”_

_Remy smirks when he watches them tense up._

_“He… H-He wasn’t lying about being followed…” James stammers._

_“I’m afraid not… but I gotta say, kudos to you two for having the guts to try and hide him from me. Sending him off to another state for schooling, very clever, but not clever enough.”_

_The couple holds onto each other’s hands, trying to give each other reassuring squeezes._

_“Please… P-Please just give him back to us… I-I’ll sleep with another surrogate of yours, please just… d-don’t take our boy…” James pleads, tears in his brown eyes. Remy snorts and stubs his cigarette out on the armchair._

_“We’re a little past that, don’t you think? I’ve got the one I need now, and I’m not about to wait another twenty-some years to get the second one just because you two can’t hold up deals.”_

_Remy looks up unamused when Dorothy jumps up from the loveseat, her blue eyes filled to the brim with anger and hatred._

_“And we still aren’t going to! W-We’ll call the cops, we have a name for the person who took our son, that’s all we’ll need!”_

_“Did you really think I’d leave here with the two of you breathing? I was born at night darling, but not last night.”_

_Remy stands up, easily towering over the woman, causing her to shrink back. All of the anger she held was now replaced with cold fear._

_“Really, you can blame your son for this. Didn’t you two teach him manners? He’s got a real attitude problem.”_

_Mr. and Mrs. Sanders tense up when Remy pulls the barrel of his gun back and points it at them._

_“Oh, well. He’s properly mine now, he’ll lose the attitude soon enough… I’ll be sure to tell him of your passing.”_

_The last thing the two of them hear is two gunshots..._

Remy jumps when a buzzing sounds from the phone on his desk, he picks up the receiver and huffs. 

“What?” 

“Your four o’clock is here sir, a Detective Wickham? Is it okay if I send him in?” 

Remy felt his heart leap at the mention of his guest, ‘ _A detective? Wonder what he wants…’_

“Send him in, Claire.” 


	19. Enemies From The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or were they~? ;)

Desmond was sure this R.Holter, is the nephew of this Remy guy. Desmond made sure to do his research once he approved his meeting with the dude. Apparently, he’s from old money, having inherited it from his parents who died in a tragic fire accident when Remy was eighteen and his little brother Charles was thirteen. 

Desmond learned that Remy invested his money into his surrogate and adoption agency, but he had a feeling the guy had more businesses than just those, but that wasn’t his concern right now. 

The building that held Remy Holter’s office was large, it was one of the tallest buildings in the city. He remembers reading that it ran solely on solar power, which he thought was pretty cool. 

The building was plain silver, just silver, and large windows, boring in his opinion, it needed some colour. 

“Why are rich people so boring?” Desmond mumbles as he walks inside, he offers the receptionist a soft smile. 

“Can you tell me what floor, Mr. Holter’s office is on?” 

“It’s on the fifty-fifth floor, the main top. Take this visitor's pass and the elevator to the left. Claire will assist you further when you get there.” 

Desmond takes the pass and walks towards the elevators, even the reception was stuffy like the building, hopefully, this Claire person won’t be so bad… same with Remy Holter, Desmond was never keen on stiff prudes. 

“Unless they’re hot, then they can be stiff all they want.” What? He wasn’t picky with who he liked, or slept with, don’t judge! 

Desmond jumps when the elevator dings, the doors slide open and he takes a moment to steady his breathing and steps out. 

“Oh! You’re early! You’re the detective I spoke to over the phone right?” Desmond jumps again when a perky voice speaks from his left, he looks over and sees a blonde woman, she looked to be around Emile’s age and wore a black pencil skirt with a matching coat and white blouse. Her hair was cut into a bob, Desmond had to admit she was pretty. 

“Um… Yeah, I like to come early whenever I set up meetings. Is Mr. Holter available or will I have to wait?” 

The woman, whom he guesses is Claire, offers him a smile as she plays with a strand of her hair. 

‘ _ Please don’t flirt with me, I’m obviously not straight,’  _ Desmond thinks as he returns her smile. 

“I’ll buzz him, see if he’s ready.” 

Her tone causes Desmond to internally cringe, ‘ _ Damn you, I don’t even like blondes!’  _

“Mr. Holter will see you now detective, just go right through those double doors.” 

Remy was excited or nervous, maybe both. He’s heard a lot about this Detective Desmond Wickham, there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about the Miami police department. He makes sure to keep an eye on the detectives within all of the sections of the precinct. 

He remembers when he heard about Detective Wickham being the youngest detective to make the biggest drug bust in history back in 09’, it was quite the talk of the town. 

Remy was sure Desmond would be a clean-cut, no-nonsense detective. 

He stands up when his office door’s open and cringes when said detective literally trips inside landing on the carpeted floor below. 

‘ _ Or maybe he’s a damn clutz…. No problem that’s perfectly fine, it can be fixed.’  _

“Son of a bitch, fucking stupid ass damn dress shoes why do they make these bitching things  _ mandatory.”  _ Desmond curses as he stays on the floor for a couple of seconds. 

‘ _ He also has a cursing problem… again that’s fine it can be fixed.’  _

“Are you alright, Detective?” 

Remy was sure he felt his breath hitch when the young man looked up at him from the floor. 

‘ _ Okay, I can do this, just walking in, asking the boring rich dude some questions and then leaving simple as that!’  _ Desmond thought as he opened the double doors to the man’s office, ‘ _ Easy pea-SHIT.’  _ That was when he went tumbling, the toe of his brown dress shoe scuffing against the floor when it switched from tile to carpet, causing him to land on his knees. 

“Son of a bitch, fucking stupid ass damn dress shoes why do they make these bitching things  _ mandatory,”  _ He curses as he glares down at the floor.

“Are you alright, Detective?” 

Desmond looks up and feels his heart drop, so maybe the boring rich dude was a really hot boring rich dude. 

‘ _ Snap the fuck out of it, this isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey you thirsty bitch, this is real life and lives are at stake!’  _

Right, no thinking with the head in his pants, it’s time for thinking with the head on his shoulders. 

Desmond pushes himself up and dusts his clothes off, he offers Mr. Holter a polite smile. 

“I’m fine, thank you for the concern. I’m not a uh… Dress shoe kind of person, I’m more of a converse wearer.” 

Desmond laughs nervously when Remy stares at him, so maybe this boring rich dude wasn’t one for clumsy people. 

“That’s funny, my son loves to wear converses too. He says they’re comfortable on his feet.” 

“That’s what I say! But noo, we’ve got a stupid dress code. Oh but uh, anyway, I was hoping to ask you a few questions.” 

Remy raises an eyebrow, “Oh? What kind of questions and please have a seat, I’m in shape but standing too long makes my knees creak.” He watches as Desmond flops down in one of the leather black chairs in front of his desk. 

‘ _ We’ll seriously need to work on etiquette too, didn’t your mother teach you anything?’  _

“I was hoping to ask you about Professor Logan Sanders. I’m pretty sure your nephew is married to him?” 

Remy feels himself tense up, but his face remains neutral. 

“I see… That’s a rather touching topic don’t you think?” 

_ ‘This won’t do at all…’  _

‘ _ Bingo…’  _

Desmond straightens his posture and looks Remy right in the eye, “It is, considering what your nephew-in-law went through back in 92’, kidnapped right? It was brave of your nephew to save him.” 

Remy shifts around in his chair, flicking his eyes away for a moment before allowing a smile to form on his face. 

“Very brave of him indeed, now, what is your inquiry about him? It wouldn’t have anything to do with your brother being missing, would it?” 

Remy smirks when Desmond tenses up, the detective narrows his eyes and begins to tap against the arm of the leather chair. 

‘ _ He taps as I do…’  _

“It does actually, see I couldn’t help but notice some similarities between Logan’s case and my brother’s, not to mention your nephew’s involvement, seems his kids have learned a few things from him. Patton and Virgil right? Those two have some serious behavioural issues.” 

Remy frowns and glares slightly,  _ ‘No, this won’t do at all.’  _

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying, Detective.” 

Desmond smirks and leans forward, resting his forearms on top of his thighs as he stares intently at Remy, hoping to break the older man forcing him to confess. 

“Did your nephew kidnap Logan Sanders, Mr. Holter? And did Patton take my brother? Because I have probable cause to believe both of those suspicions as being true.” 

Desmond jumps when Remy abruptly stands, the older man takes a breath through his nose and keeps his tone clipped. 

“I think it’s time you left, Detective. I don’t appreciate you coming in here and accusing my family of this, especially when my nephew-in-law went through so much after he was taken.” 

‘ _ Shit, hard limit.’  _

Desmond stands up, “I apologize for overstepping, but your reaction tells me my suspicions aren’t inherently wrong. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Holter.” 

Remy watches as Desmond leaves, he sits back down in his chair and slams his hand down on his desk. 

“And here I thought we’d get along, no matters… I’ll handle it.”

Desmond stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he whistles a merry tune as he stares up at the cloudy sky. He has to do more digging when it comes to Remy Holter and his family, something just isn’t sitting right with him. 

“So close to getting them Emi… just hang on…” 


	20. I'll Be Waiting All There's Left To Do is Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess~"

“You can sit down.”

Emile barely remembered to wait for Virgil’s permission but was relieved he did, taking a seat gingerly. He didn’t like Logan’s absence and desperately wanted to ask about it. Where was he? When would he be back? Nothing felt certain with the Holters, and not having the one person he trusted in this household around made him even more anxious than before.

“Say thank you to him,” Remy says, striding into the room and taking his own seat.

“Ah - um, thank you, Vir-my saviour-” Emile stumbles over the words, and stares at Logan’s empty seat intently to try and distract himself.

(It doesn’t help.)

“Nice save,” Virgil teases, and Emile hates how light-heartedly he says it.

“The slut will be joining us shortly,” Remy says suddenly, and Remus perks up, “he’s just recovering. I figured I’d be nice and allow him a few minutes to pull himself together.”

“I hope he appreciated it,” Remus murmurs, “I sure wouldn’t give him those few minutes.”

A servant comes in to put out a variety of mouth-watering dishes, at which point Virgil takes Emile’s plate. Emile goes to protest but shuts his mouth just in time. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Remy smirk.

“Here you’ll only get the option to eat what you’re offered,” Remy sneers.

Emile watches Remus do a similar thing, putting a few roast potatoes and a helping of salad onto Logan’s plate before settling it down. No wonder Logan was so tiny if he was being offered that little…

“Here you go, Bunny!” Virgil happily returns Emile’s plate.

Emile had more than Logan did, that was for sure. A small slice of chicken, a few roast potatoes, what looked like two pieces of stuffing, and a large portion of vegetables. Remy doesn’t comment, so Emile can only assume there are no rules on how much he was allowed to eat, providing it was given to him by Virgil.

“Thank you,” he says meekly and hears a hum of approval by Remy as Virgil beams.

Logan suddenly enters the room, hunched over and limping heavily, eyes downcast as he stands beside his seat, glancing at Remus.

“Go on, sit,” Remus instructs him, “I got you some food.”

Logan looks at the (Emile counts) four roast potatoes and a handful of salad, and the thank you, he offers is clearly forced as he sits down.

“Actually…” Remus takes one of the roast potatoes and eats it himself, “there we go! Much better!”

Emile cringes at how he talks whilst eating, but Logan doesn’t react, and simply nods before poking at the salad with his fork.

“So, I had an interesting meeting today,” Remy says as he takes a sip of what Emile was guessing was white wine. 

“Ooh! Was it with a rival? Did you shoot them so their brains splatter everywhere? Oh oh or was it some couple that was wanting a kid and couldn’t get approved because they have skeletons in their closet?  _ Literally?”  _

Emile makes a face and bows his head, trying to focus on his food instead of their conversation. 

“No, Remus, you know none of that happens while at the office… well the couple thing maybe. Anyway, no, a detective came to visit me… Has your brother always been clumsy, Emile?” 

Emile tenses and almost looks Remy in the eye but manages to stop himself. He jumps when a spitting sound comes from his left. 

“WHAT? I-I mean-... _ Desmond,  _ came to see you? My  _ boss?”  _ Patton asks, ignoring Virgil’s disgruntled glare as the emo tries to clean the water off of himself that Patton had spit out. 

“He did, we had a pleasant talk. We talked about his hatred of dress shoes, about his sudden infatuation with  _ Logan’s  _ case.” 

Emile glances up when he sees Logan grow tense, ‘ _ Leave it to Dee to get obsessed with a twenty-year-old case…’  _

“Your brother is very clever, Emile. That or Patty didn’t cover his and Virgil’s tracks as good as he thought he did.” 

“I-I did! W-We both did, he doesn’t know he’s just paranoid. I’m sure Emile knows first hand about his brother’s paranoia don’t you.” 

Emile winces at Patton’s harsh words, he goes to speak but stops himself, not wanting to upset Remy. 

“Go ahead, answer him, baby boy.” 

Emile cringes at the nickname and shifts in his chair. 

“My… My brother can get paranoid… he doesn’t… rest well.” 

“See! He doesn’t rest well, not to mention all he does is sleep around with people he’s even sleeping with the lab tech at work!” 

Emile just blinks and looks up at Patton. 

“No, he doesn’t. Sure my brother takes the occasional guy home, but he doesn’t sleep around!” 

Emile winces when someone kicks him under the table, he looks over and sees Logan shake his head. 

“No no, let him speak. You know how I feel about family, slut. Let him defend his brother.” Remy chimes in, a smirk on his face. 

Logan sighs and looks back down. 

“I’m not about to argue with a stupid soulmate, especially one that argues with his brother practically every damn week.” 

Emile flinches and looks down, all the fight leaving him at once. It wasn’t like Patton was wrong, he and his brother did fight a lot, sometimes over stupid things that lead to them not speaking for weeks until one of them apologised. 

“If he’s getting that close then… Then I’m going to have to take Roman early. Desmond is so damn stubborn and paranoid, he won’t stop until he gets someone, and I don’t really want to get caught by him he’s-... there’s just something weird about him.” 

Emile tenses and looks up. 

“Oh! Oh, you could knock him out! It’s how I got your papa, quite the beautiful love story there, eh Star?” Remus chimes in, nudging Logan slightly as he does. 

“Or you could do what we did when we took bunny!” 

“N-No! Leave my boyfriend alone!” Emile yells. 

The room falls silent, causing Emile to shrink down in his chair. Emile and Logan tense up when Remy clears his throat. 

“Slut, take Emile here out. You two can watch something in the living room, we’ve got some discussing to do.” 

Logan nods and slowly stands, wincing as he does, he gestures for Emile to follow him. Emile hesitates for a second before standing up, when he moves to stand next to Logan, he’s stopped by someone grabbing his arm. 

He yelps when rough hands force his mouth open and nearly gags when a red ballgag is forced into his mouth, the straps pulled tight. 

“You didn’t have permission to talk that time, I’m afraid. Now, you can go. You two behave!” 

Emile feels tears fill his eyes as he follows Logan out, he flinches when the frail man gently takes his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“D-Don’t worry… I’ll talk to Patton okay?” 

Emile sniffs and turns to him, wanting to say something but, unable to do so, instead hugs Logan tightly, burying his face against him.

“It will be okay,” Logan murmurs, but both of them know he’s not so sure.

Talking to his son should be something Logan was confident doing. He’d raised the twins since they were five. He’d seen them in the orphanage, in fact, before being taken. He could handle them back then. But they were hard to raise, too hard, especially alone. Oh, sure, Remus was there, but raising the children was  _ Logan’s  _ job.

That and cleaning and cooking and anything else Remus didn’t want to do. Logan at times felt like a glorified maid of sorts. Maid, nanny, slave…

His sons were violent from the start. And Logan, frail and always with injuries, was a prime target. And Remus only encouraged it. Time and time again, because “it will help them later in life with  _ their  _ soulmates!”

It didn’t seem to matter what Logan did, Remus’ influence only made the twins more confident in their actions. Logan didn’t think he could fault them for how they turned out. Even if they were doing bad things...Logan blamed himself for it, for not stopping Remus influencing them and their actions.

Virgil had been the worst. He’d push Logan down the stairs, punch him, kick him, scream and do all he could to add to Logan’s injuries. Needles and kitchen knives and anything sharp was hidden during the day when Remus was away.

Patton preferred subtle tactics. He’d claim Logan had hurt him, or hurt himself, or done something wrong. And Remus believed him every time. Or maybe he didn’t, and just wanted to hurt Logan. Who knew.

So talking to Patton about his plans to kidnap Roman filled him with dread, especially in Remy’s home, when he definitely wasn’t allowed to do that.

Logan takes a deep breath and shakes out his nerves, ‘ _ I can do this… I just need to be nice, if I’m nice he shouldn’t get upset…’  _ Logan quickly knocks on the door, waiting for Patton to answer. He almost turns to leave when the door swings open, his son standing there in a pair of sweatpants and a red t-shirt.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. 

Logan almost loses his nerve, he takes another breath. 

“P-Patton I… P-Please reconsider going after, Roman. You’ll be causing him distress, w-wouldn’t you want to earn his love and trust a better way than this?” 

Logan waits for Patton to sneer and yell for Remus, but it doesn’t come. No, his son’s face crumples into a sad frown. 

“That was my plan, papa… b-but Desmond is getting too close… and he… he  _ scares  _ me… h-he knew about mama and father… I can’t play it safe anymore.” 

Logan blinks and tilts his head. 

“How did he know about them? I thought all records of them were destroyed?” 

“I-I thought so too! Just… Desmond Wickham  _ scares  _ me… he… he kind of acts like uncle Remy… just… I can't, okay? Don’t ask again.” 

Logan hesitates before giving in with a sigh. 

“Okay…” 

He tenses when Patton wraps him in a tight hug, Logan smiles slightly and returns the gesture, holding his eldest son as tight as he can. 

“Patton, wouldn’t change his mind… but I promise you while Roman is here I’ll keep you both safe,” Logan says as he helps Emile remove the gag, he didn’t have to keep the gag on while they slept, but he would have to put it back on for another hour tomorrow. 

Emile rubs his jaw and sniffles. 

“I-I don’t want them to hurt, R-Roman…” 

“They won’t… I’ll make sure of it, do you trust me?” 

Emile hesitates for a moment, before slowly nodding. Logan’s already done so much for him, there was no doubt that he would keep Roman safe as well. He could trust Logan with this.

“...Thanks, Lo…” Emile wipes his eyes, “...my jaw hurts so much…”

Logan looks like he hesitates before smiling and rubbing his jaw gently.

“I’ll go get you some pain relief gel, okay?”

Emile shakes his head, smiling weakly and rubbing his jaw again, before limping slightly over to the bed, sitting down and feeling relief at how the pain in his bad knee eases slightly.

“It’s fine,” he insists, although he’s aware it’s not much of an insistence, “it’s - it hurts but it’s not as bad as it sounds…”

He isn’t sure that Logan getting the pain gel would be okay for Logan, after all. What if it went against the rules somehow? Or if one of the Holters just...lost it for some reason?

“It clearly is,” Logan sits beside Emile and inspects the jaw gently, “it always hurts more when you aren’t used to it.”

“...And you are.”

Emile isn’t asking, and Logan clearly understands. They stay silent for a moment, Emile internally swearing not to let Logan suffer for him again, as he had before now. He didn’t want to be hurt, of course, but...maybe if he was careful and followed the rules properly, nobody would need to be hurt?

“Sir just...has a fondness for me,” Logan says finally, breaking the silence. “I get hurt a lot, but it’s not going to change. ...I’ll get that pain gel, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Or we could just have a cuddle?” Emile asks quickly, “Roman and Dee would always give me cuddles when I wasn’t feeling good…”

Logan smiles slightly. “I’ll do that afterward, I promise.”

Emile tries to protest, but Logan stubbornly goes to get the pain gel anyway. He can’t help but sigh and slowly curl up, praying that Logan would be okay.

Meanwhile, Logan was hesitant in finding out the pain gel. Remy was the one with the pain gel, keeping it in a cupboard in his office. If he went and got it and got caught, he’d be in trouble.

It was easier to just seek Remy out and try to ask him.

He bumps into Remus first, who grins and grabs him by the wrists, ignoring how the stabbed hand twitches painfully.

“Hey, Star...whatcha doing?” Remus asks, “hope you’re not doing anything bad~”

Logan doesn’t answer, but forces a smile and shakes his head, only to have his wrists squeezed painfully as Remus pulls him close.

“Go on,” he says, smirking, “speak. Whatcha doing?”

Logan breathes deeply before answering, “I want to ask Sir for some pain gel for Emile, my saviour.”

Remus hums and his face seems to darken as he leans in, whispering in Logan’s ear.

“I’ll come with you and ask for you! Since you’re my good little Star who wouldn’t go sneaking behind my back...right?”

Logan isn’t sure what he’s talking about but assumes one of his kids has said something. Remus’ accusations weren’t usually  _ totally  _ out of the blue.

“Of course not, my saviour,” he mumbles.

“Good...because you’d end up in a very bad way if you were!”

And with that, Remus pulls away and drags Logan off to find Remy, with Logan thoroughly confused.

Not too different from usual.

Desmond taps at his desk, trying to remember breathing exercises. Trying. He wasn’t really good at remembering them. But he really did want to calm down. Talking to Remy Holter had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, and a lot more searches on the internet.

But what was really irritating him now - to say the least - was a set of cold cases that had occurred since Logan Sanders had been kidnapped. And a few of them certainly indicated that Remy Holter was up to more than kidnapping.

Looking through the unsolved murder of Logan Sanders’ parents, for example. Wasn’t it strange? That Logan would disappear, his parents murdered, and reappear disheveled and traumatised, only to marry his “saviour” barely two months later? And that saviour was related to Remy Holter, a sketchy businessman…

Then there was a case of  _ suspected  _ domestic abuse, where names had been removed but gave a description of a man who could certainly be Logan. The case had been dropped, supposedly because it was “just a rumour, with no evidence of anything but a happy marriage”. But Desmond simply didn’t buy it.

And the case of a young man who turned up at the police station, crying and talking about a sex trafficking ring. He described many people, but most significantly, a man that could be interpreted as Remy Holter. But the case was dropped, the man sent to a mental hospital - Desmond made a note to visit him at some point, ask questions - because apparently “his testimony was impacted by hysteria and possible delusions”.

Funny how the police department got a large donation from an unidentified source around that time, hm?

He taps faster, desperately trying to focus on the case he was  _ supposed  _ to be investigating. His boss had given him a basic theft case to look at. And he hadn’t.

“Hey, Des, you should really do your work.”

Desmond pauses and looks up at one of his coworkers. He didn’t recognise the man, but he was pretty certain he worked in dog handling. Or maybe the drugs section? He didn’t know or care right now.

“I’ll get it done, chill,” he mutters, tapping again.

“Not by staring into space and tapping,” the man says with a chuckle.

“My brother’s still missing,” Desmond snaps slightly, “can you just - leave me alone? I’m allowed to be distracted.”

The man rolls his eyes, an action that makes Desmond want to hit him.

“If it’s that bad you should just - take time off. Besides, I hear you complain and argue with him down the phone a lot. He can’t be that special to you.”

“Fuck  _ off _ ,” Desmond hisses, his fingers tapping the desk harder and faster. “He’s my brother, asshole. So what if we argue? We still love each other, and I still hate him being gone!”

Desmond was aware of the others turning to look at them, but he didn’t care. This guy had no right to judge him or tell him how he should feel about his brother being gone. 

“Oh, relax, you’re overreacting, besides… We all know you’re more worried about fucking Al then you are finding your brother.” 

Desmond tenses up and grits his teeth. 

“What’s the matter, Des, did I hit a ner-.” 

The guy falls to the floor holding his face, he stares up at Desmond, fear written all over his face. 

“S-Shut up, SHUT UP!” Desmond screams as he pulls the guy up, hitting him again. Desmond was sure that he heard someone call his name but he ignored them, hitting the asshole again and again. 

“That’s enough!” 

Desmond stumbles slightly when he’s pulled away from the guy he was beating, he pants and shakes.

“Desmond, cool it!” Captain Craine yells, blocking his view from the other’s helping the other guy stand. 

“N-No, no he’s not going to fucking start shit and then get taken up for!! It’s bullshit!” 

Desmond tries to push past the captain, only for him to be grabbed. Before he could stop himself, Desmond punches his boss. 

The precinct falls silent, Desmond gasps softly and covers his mouth. He watches as Captain Craine rubs his jaw, a bruise already blooming. 

“S-Sir, I- I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean t-.” 

“You’re  _ fired.  _ Hand over your badge and gun then get the hell out of here before I decide to arrest you for assault.” 

Desmond freezes and feels tears fill his eyes, he quickly blinks them away and takes a shaky breath. 

“J-Joseph,  _ please,  _ I’m sorry! I-I just got angry, please y-you can’t… I-I still have to find my brother!” 

Joseph Craine narrows his eyes and holds his hand out, waiting for Desmond to hand over his badge and gun. 

Desmond sighs as he unclips his badge, he takes his gun from the holster on his side and places it in his ex-bosses hand. 

“H-Heh… good luck finding him now…” 

Desmond growls softly and tries to get past Joseph again, only for the man to place his hand on Desmond’s chest. 

“Leave, now, Wickham.” 

He wants to argue, he wants to fight for his job, but Desmond knew that if he tried to do anything brash, it would only end with him in cuffs. 

Desmond lets out a huff and grabs his coat, he storms out of the precinct, ignoring the stares he got on the way out. Of course, nothing changes for him when it comes to self-defense. 

“I’m still the fucking bad guy and monster when it comes to taking up for myself, it’s not  _ fair.”  _ He growls as he walks towards his car, his left hand gripping his keys while his right taps against his thigh. 

Desmond unlocks his car doors and drops inside, slamming the driver’s side door as he does. He thumps his head against the steering wheel and lets out a much needed frustrated scream. 

Desmond flops down face-first onto his couch, not bothering to do his ritual with the deadbolt, but he knew he would have to sooner or later. Desmond groans as he pulls his phone from his pocket. 

He lifts his head up and glares at the device as he scrolls through his numbers, he stops over his brother’s name for a bit, a part of him wanting to call just so he could hear Emile’s voice, but he brushes it away and scrolls down to Roman’s. 

Desmond pulls up the contact information for Roman and presses call, he puts the phone on speaker and lays it down next to him. It rings and rings and rings… 

‘ _ This is Prince Roman Blake! I can’t take your call right now because I’m too busy being my fabulous self! Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as quick as I can! Unless you’re Des or Emi then just call straight back!’  _

Desmond groans and presses his face against the cushions again, he hangs up and dials Roman once more. 

‘ _ This is Prince Roman Blake! I can’t take your call right now because I’m too busy being my fabulous self! Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as quick as I can! Unless you’re Des or Emi then just call straight back!’ _

“Roman quit playing around and pick up!” 

Desmond hangs up once more and tries calling again only to get Roman’s voicemail once more. 

‘ _ This is Prince Roman Blake! I can’t take your call right now because I’m too busy being my fabulous self! Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as quick as I can! Unless you’re Des or Emi then just call straight back!' _


	21. It's A Love Story Baby Just Say...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes~

Emile was proud of himself for being able to get up so early without Logan helping him by prompting this time. He had a bit of difficulty getting out of Virgil’s arms, as usual, but he was awake and up, and that was what mattered.

“You’re awake!” Logan seems impressed, which somehow makes Emile feel happy too.

“Yeah, I - I decided I want to do my part in making us safe, you know?” he says, almost shyly.

“Ah, I see...well, I admire how fast you decided that. It...well, I was stupid...a-anyway,” Logan shakes his head, “we have cleaning and cooking to do.”

Emile nods, breathing deeply. He could do this. He could.

There was always something different about watching someone you love sleep in person. Sure, Patton’s watched Roman sleep before this, since they were growing close the more time they spent together, but this was  _ different. _

“We’re finally going to be together my Romeo… Aren’t you excited?” Patton murmurs as he trails his fingers over the red head's relaxed face. They were on their way back to Remy’s, Patton deciding to take Roman to his and Virgil’s house at first. He made sure to give Roman another dose of the sedative he used the night before. 

Patton made sure to leave Roman’s phone behind, leaving it to be found by the police, he knew that Desmond would call them when Roman wouldn’t pick up after the fourth call. He made sure to wipe off any prints, he wasn’t about to get caught, not when he’s made it this far. 

“I went through a lot of stuff to get you, dear… I had to cause a distraction because I knew Desmond would leave work around seven-thirty, but it’s okay… Because you’re  _ here  _ now.” 

Roman slowly stirs awake right when the blazer that was bringing them to Remy’s pulls up in front of the large house. 

“W-Wh-? D-Dee?” Roman slurs. 

Patton just huffs and throws the back door open, he hops out and pulls Roman out with him, holding him bridal style. 

He wasn’t going to mess this up, he couldn’t mess this up. 

“Here, let me show you. You’re doing good, but you’re trying to flip the egg too fast.” Emile huffs as he lets Logan take the pan from him, he watches as Logan slowly flips the egg he was frying over to its front, not busting the yolk like he had been doing before. 

“My brother can flip them fast.” 

“Well, you’re not your brother, Emile. You cook in a way that makes you comfortable, alright?” 

Emile nods and takes the pan from Logan, he follows suit, slowly flipping the egg over. A surge of pride rushes through him when the yolk doesn’t bust. 

“Good job!” Logan praises. 

The two of them tense up when they hear a door slam close somewhere in the house. 

“Papa! You’re going to have to fix an extra plate of food!” Patton yells.

Logan and Emile share a confused look, they hear Patton go upstairs, his bedroom dooring echoing in the silent house as he slams it. 

“You… Y-You, don’t think he went through with his plan to get Roman already do you?” Emile asks. 

“I’m not sure… He could just want extra, Patton sometimes eats extra.” 

Emile takes a breath and nods, that was all it was, Patton just wanted extra food this morning. 

Roman groans as he shifts slightly, something surprisingly soft rubs against his face. He blinks his blue eyes open and rubs them, he shrieks when he comes face to face with an unfamiliar teddy-bear. 

“O-Okay, last I checked Dee didn’t have any stuffed animals, that wasn’t his forte!” 

“That’s because it’s not Dee’s teddy bear, Romeo. Did you have a nice nap?” 

Roman jumps and turns around, there stood Patton at the foot of the bed he was laying on. The night before was slowly coming back to him, he had just gotten home from an audition, one that he’s had in the works for a while, he remembers going to turn the lights on but someone had grabbed him from behind, and a sharp prick on his neck. 

“W-What… Patton, what’s going on? Why did you attack me!?” 

“I didn’t attack you! I  _ saved  _ you, there’s a difference. Now, you should keep your voice down. Uncle Remy hates when the soulmates scream.” 

Roman furrows his brows in confusion, ‘ _ Desmond was right and you said he was paranoid!’  _

“Ha… Right…” 

Now, Roman knew that in a situation like this you shouldn’t try to run, well, just because he knew this doesn’t mean he was going to use this knowledge. Roman springs from the bed and throws the door open, he runs out and down the hall. 

“ROMEO! No, running in the house!!” 

‘ _ Shitshitshitshitshit!’  _

“Your cooking is atrocious but your cleaning skills are incredible! Of course, you still need practice,” Logan says as he dusts Remy’s crystals. 

Emile huffs and throws his dust rag at Logan, the Holters were sleeping in late, well except for Patton. 

“I had to learn how to clean, my brother is like neurotic as heck when it comes to cleaning, if it's not up to his standards then he’ll complain about it until you either let him reclean it or redo it yourself.” 

Emile notices how Logan’s brows furrow, Logan opens his mouth to say something only to be caught off by a startled scream. They look at each other for a moment before going to where the scream came from. 

It felt as if the wind had been knocked from Emile’s chest, there struggling in Patton’s arms was Roman,  _ his  _ Roman, the love of his life whom he hasn’t seen in over a month. 

“R-Roman?” 

The redhead stops and looks up, his blue eyes widening in shock. Emile lets out a startled gasp when Roman jams his elbow into Patton’s gut, causing him to lose his grip allowing Roman to get free and to sprint over to Emile scooping him into a tight hug. 

“Emi!! O-Oh my god, you’re okay! Wait… W-Wait…” Roman trails off as he lets him go. He glances over to see a frail man checking on Patton as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Dee… D-Dee was right, he was right and I called him paranoid…” 

Emile tenses up and stares at Roman before smacking the redhead on the arm, he ignores the soft growl that Patton lets out. 

“You know how Desmond feels about that Roman!!” 

“W-Well, how was I supposed to know his ramblings were right for once!? I mean seriously Emile, he checks his windows and doors three times a night thinking someone is going to kidnap him!” 

Emile groans and runs his hands through his hair, this was bad, Desmond was probably freaking out, the only person who could keep him in line without Emile there was now  _ gone.  _

“I just  _ love  _ being woken up by bitchy soulmates in the morning, don’t you Rem?” Everyone tenses up and looks towards the stairs, there stood Remy and Remus. The older of the two not wearing his sunglasses, his grey eyes narrowed at them dangerously. Remus was too busy pouting and yawning. 

Logan and Emile quickly bow their heads, while Roman keeps his held high. Remy smirks, ‘ _ This kid has some spunk.’  _

“You must be Patty’s soulmate, Roman Blake, right? Gotta say you look so much prettier in person, Little Red.” 

Roman makes a face and scoots closer to Emile, he clings to his boyfriend’s hand not wanting to let him go in fear of losing him again. 

Remy’s smirk broadens as he lets out a laugh, “Well, no need to stand around like a bunch of hoodlums! Let’s go eat!” 

The others watch as he and Remus make their way into the dining room, Roman feels Emile tense up when Remy turns back around. 

“Oh, and Roman? Welcome to the family, I’m sure you’ll find your stay here pleasurable…” 


	22. Bad Cop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for lack of updates!

This couldn’t be real, this wasn’t  _ happening  _ to him. No, Desmond wasn’t at the police station, sitting by his old desk with a blanket wrapped around him. He wasn’t watching as his ex-boss filled a missing person’s paper out for Roman, no this was a dream! A really really bad dream. Desmond looks down and pinches his arm, he flinches slightly. 

“Desmond… I know this a surreal moment, but ya gotta talk to me kid. Was there anyone suspicious around, Roman before he was taken?” Joseph asks. 

Desmond looks up at him and narrows his eyes.

“Why should I tell you anything, you’ll fill out the fucking report and then close the case like you did with Emile. Besides I don’t have to answer to you anymore, you fired me remember?” 

Desmond stands up, letting the blanket fall to the floor. He wasn’t going to let the police department deal with this. He knew who took Roman, and he was going to handle this on his own. 

“Just scrap the report, I’ll look for him myself.” 

“Desmond, there’s no need to be hos-.” 

“No need!? You fired me for defending myself, you closed my brother’s kidnapping case, and you fucking know who took Roman and my brother! Don’t pretend that you don’t because damn it Joseph their cases are the same as fucking Logan Sanders and you know it!!” 

Joseph flinches, he takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at Desmond. 

“You’re right, I do know, but there’s nothing I can do, Desmond. When Logan Sanders was kidnapped I was like you, a young detective who wanted to save everyone, but I’ll tell you like how my captain told me. You can’t save everyone, when it comes to people like this you have to play your cards right. Now, damn it Desmond, I’m  _ begging _ you, let it go…” 

Desmond stares at him, clenches his jaw and balls his hands into tight fists. He turns his back on Joseph and breathes deeply through his nose before slowly letting it out. 

“It’s a good thing you’re not my captain anymore. This is my fucking brother and his boyfriend, the only family I have left,  _ Joseph.  _ I’m not letting it go, so kindly, fuck off.” 

Desmond walks out, ignoring his ex-boss as he calls out to him. The first thing Desmond was going to do was step down into the Holter’s level of pettiness, they’re not the only ones who can put people on edge. 

Virgil groans as his phone chimes multiple times, he reaches over and snatches the annoying device from the top of his nightstand. He glares at the semi bright screen and feels all the colour drain from his face. 

The words, ‘ _ I know what you did.’  _ Was sent to him multiple times, Virgil feels his mouth grow dry when another text pops up. 

‘ _ I know what you and your family did, and you’re going to pay for it.’  _

“This isn’t good,  _ shit.”  _

Desmond smirks at the text Virgil had sent him, ‘ _ Fuck off! You don’t know anything!!’  _ Desmond hums and pockets his new burner phone. He breathes in deeply as he reaches over to the passenger side of his car, he opens the glove box and pulls out his extra badge. ‘ _ Fuck you Joseph, you can take my job but you can’t take my favourite badge.’  _

Desmond clips the badge to the right pocket on his black dress pants and gets out of the car. In front of him stood  _ The Vines  _ hospital, one of his many resources told him that this was where the guy who was branded crazy all those years ago when he came forward about a sex trafficking ring was. 

“This place looks more like a seedy strip club than a psychiatric hospital…” Desmond mumbles as he walks up to the building, of course Remy Holter would make sure the poor guy was sent to a bad hospital, Desmond wouldn’t be surprised if there were many abuse allegations swept under the rug. 

Desmond walks inside and is met with a guy sleeping at the front desk, he lets out an irritated sigh as he bangs the top of the desk, startling the guy awake. 

“Wha? Oh uh… can I help you?” 

“I would sure hope so, I’m Detective Desmond Wickham and I need to speak with a patient here. His name is Aaric Graham.” 

The guy rubs his head, squinting as he appears to think hard for a moment before shrugging.

“Uh...I’ll check the system…” The man boots up an ancient looking computer, hitting it hard on the side when it glitches for a moment. Desmond sighs, tapping the side of his leg.

A few clicks and some typing on keys that almost seem to fall off later, the man nods and stands up, stretching out until his back clicks. He grabs a dusty key and nods towards one of the darker corridors.

“Down this way. Room 112.”

Desmond follows him down, trying to ignore the eerie silence, until the man unlocks the door and nods towards it.

“Careful. Guy ain’t dangerous, but he’s whack, you know?”

Desmond doesn’t think he does, but he nods nonetheless before entering.

The room at first looked abandoned, well it was more like a cell than a room really. Desmond steps in further and jumps back when he hears a pained yelp, he looks down and feels a chill run down his spine when he notices a hand poking out from under the iron framed cot. 

“Mr. Graham? I need you to come out so we can talk,” Desmond says as he crouches down, Aaric Graham was a scrawny man, his red hair knotted up and greasy. There were bruises on his too skinny face. 

Desmond stumbles slightly when he’s knocked off guard by Aaric when the fairly young man dashes out from under his bed. 

“Aaric! I just want to talk to you about what happened in 2001!” Desmond exclaims as he steps closer to the now cowering man in the corner of the room. 

“N-No! Get away from me I already t-told you Mr.Holter I haven’t said anything else about...a-about… W-Wait you’re not… but you look like him…” 

Desmond wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult, maybe the lazy front desk man was right, maybe Aaric Graham was whack… especially if the guy thought he looked like Remy fucking Holter. 

“Look, I’m not in league with Remy Holter, alright? I’m a detective, I’m trying to get him behind bars. Now, eleven years ago you came into the precinct telling people about a sex trafficking ring, do you mind telling me what you told them?” 

Aaric stares at him with suspicious grey eyes, it unnerves Desmond a bit, (Well that, and the fact that he and Aaric almost shared similar looks). 

“I know you’re scared, but I swear to you Remy Holter won’t find out about this. Your side of things could save three people’s lives…” 

Aaric shifts uncomfortably and looks away, Desmond watches as the scared guy puts his fingers in his mouth, trying his best to chew on the already stubby nails. 

“You promise? I-I won’t get hurt and he won’t know?” Aaric asks. 

Desmond offers him a small smile and nods, he holds his gloved hand out to him watching as Aaric hesitates before grabbing it, allowing Desmond to pull him up. 

“I… I was seventeen when it happened… S-Someone in a black van pulled up next to me when I was walking home from work, mum and dad were too cheap to get me a car ya know? I… I tried to run but I wasn’t quick enough.

“They used some type of cloth to put me to sleep, when I came to I was in some kind of warehouse… W-When I asked what was going on, someone… which I’m pretty sure was Mr. Holter said that… that I belonged to him, that my parents sold me to him for their drugs.” 

Desmond couldn’t help the pang of sympathy he felt towards Aaric, he knew how it felt to have a parent choose their addiction over their kids. 

Aaric breathes deeply, “I spent a good few months with Mr. Holter and his… colleagues, but I managed to get free because a guy… I never learned his name but everyone always called him ‘Slut,’ he set me free and told me to run and never looked back. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to the cops… then I wouldn’t be stuck here…” 

Desmond shakes his head. 

“No, no I’m glad you did, you’re a key witness to my case. I know this is difficult for you to talk about, Aaric. Now, can you tell me what this ‘Slut’ guy looked like?” 

Aaric hesitates for a moment, refusing to look Desmond in the eyes for a long moment before looking up. 

“It was the guy who went missing… That teacher, I-I tried to tell the police that but… they said he was in a loving relationship with kids… b-but I swear it was him!” 

Desmond nods and flashes Aaric a smile, he holds his hand out to the guy and smiles more when Aaric shakes his hand. 

“That’s all I needed to know, you’ve been a really big help Aaric… I promise you’ll be safe.” 

Aaric nods and shuffles around on his feet, “I’ll take your word for it…” 

Virgil wanted to scream, whoever was texting him sent him multiple messages within a span of ten minutes. Each one repeating what was said that morning except for the last one. 

_ ‘How’s Logan doing? Oh, I’m sorry I mean the Slut.’  _

Virgil didn’t know how this freak knew what his uncle called his papa, but now it was going too far. Around lunch time Virgil decided to show his phone to his uncle. 

“Hm… I’ll have my men look into it, don’t worry too much Storm cloud, whoever it is can’t pin us to anything, they’re just trying to scare you.” 

Remy ruffles Virgil’s hair before walking off with his great-nephew’s phone. He looks at his phone over his dark shades and smirks. 

“What are you up to, detective?” 


	23. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING LAST WEEK- have the chapter early!

“Okay, Roman repeat to me rules one through five,” Logan says tiredly. He didn’t have anything against the red-head, but it was as if Emile’s boyfriend lacked natural common knowledge when it came to rules. 

“Ah… Oh! I know No complaining, no eye-contact, uh… call the old dude sir, and um… No dancing like in _ Footloose _ ?” 

Logan places his head in his hands, was this what an aneurysm felt like? Like an ever-growing headache that not even strong narcotics can get rid of? 

“Roman, this is  _ serious.  _ You need to learn these rules because if you don’t you and probably all three of us are going to get hurt!” 

Roman groans and leans his head back, “Why do we even have to follow these dumb rules? It’s stupid! Why don’t we just, I don’t know,  _ leave?  _ We can call Dee, there are phones all over this place.” 

Logan wanted to scream, he was sure Roman was a smart kid, and he was trying not to hold this moment of stupidity against him, not when he was just as naive as the red-head when he was first brought here over twenty years ago. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Romeo.” 

The three of them tense up and turn towards the double white doors that lead from the living room into the dining room. Patton stood on the threshold a bright smile plastered on his tanned face. 

“Uncle Remy has all the phones here tapped. If anyone other than me, Virgil, or dad uses them the call that was made will be automatically dropped. Isn’t that right, Emile?” 

Emile tenses up and wraps his arms around himself, he doesn’t want to be reminded of that horrible punishment, his left knee still throbs. 

“Anyways, you’re coming with me, Romeo! We’re going on our very first date, oh well after you change of course. As much as I love those tight jeans of yours I prefer skirts… you’re going to look so pretty.” 

Emile and Logan watch as Patton drags Roman off, Emile feels a pang of sympathy when Logan lets out a groan. 

“He’s just scared… He’ll catch on soon, I promise.” 

“God, I hope so if not all three of us are figuratively and literally screwed.” 

If Remy were to allow Emile Picani to psychoanalyse him, he’s positive that the young therapist would say he’s got a bit of an obsession. Now, of course, Remy would deny that claim, he wasn’t obsessed with catching Desmond Wickham, no, it was a simple game of cat and mouse between him and the detective. 

Remy had to admit, he was impressed, but the detective could do better. Like keep all of his social media private, which Desmond doesn’t, not that he has many social platforms. His most used ones seem to be Facebook and Tumblr, a site Remy has seen Virgil on countless times. 

“You seem to have an eye for art, detective…” Remy mumbles as he scrolls through the young man’s Tumblr page. Various hand-drawn pictures were posted there, one of the pictures even being one of Desmond and Emile that must have been copied from an old photograph. 

Desmond Wickham was an interesting man and Remy planned to catch him, he just needed to be patient… 

Desmond wasn’t obsessed, despite what Alvin says whenever he calls in a favour. He wasn’t obsessed with the Holter family or Remy Holter, you can’t be obsessed when you have solid proof that they’re the scums of the Earth, that they have his brother and Roman in their clutches at this very moment. 

“I still don’t see how I got off with a warning but you get fired because we were outed with our affair… Also, I found something in the database, ya gotta promise that this is the last time though Des, I can’t keep doing this.” 

Desmond huffs, Alvin wasn’t wrong, it was stupid that he got off with a warning.

“I promise, you won’t hear from me again unless you need some help relaxing.” 

Desmond smirks when he hears Alvin let out a flustered squeak, he liked seeing the techy all flustered. 

“T-There was a call to the 911 centre, I’ll send you the audio file. Someone other than me must have gotten ahold of this and put it in the archives.” 

“Mind sending me the file? After this I swear Al, that'll be the last you hear from me when it comes to cop stuff, I promise.” 

Alvin sighs. 

“I hope so… You should be getting it now, be careful Desmond.” 

Desmond goes to say that he’s always careful, but Alvin hangs up. Now, if Desmond were to let his paranoia get to him, then he would assume that Alvin knew everything that was going on like everyone else at the precinct, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that because he knew his best friend wouldn’t keep something like that from him. 

He sighs and opens his email, he opens the message from Alvin and plays the audio file, choosing to not use headphones letting it play through the speaker on his phone. 

_ ‘911 What’s your emergency?’  _

_ ‘M-My name is Emile Picani and I’ve been kidnapped…’  _

Desmond tenses up, his right hand balling into a tight fist. 

_ ‘Oh, dear… Can you give me the address or are your captors present?’  _

_ ‘T-The address is 11504 Carrollwood Drive, its a t- st- ho- with gre- shuts!’  _

_ ‘I’m sorry but you cut out what was that last bit?’  _

_ ‘Sir?’  _

Desmond clenches his jaw when the audio ends due to the call being dropped, his brother sounded so scared. 

“If they had shown me this then I could have gotten to him sooner!” 

He runs his hands through his hair, lightly pulling at it. Desmond breathes deeply through his nose and replays the clip. 

‘ _ 11504 Carrollwood Drive.’  _

“A suburb… I’ll have to go at night then.” 

Logan is relieved to have time alone to himself that evening. Roman and Emile were lovely, but he’d spent a lot of the day going over the rules with them and stopping them before they broke any. They were good kids, but they were still kids. Sort of. At what age did people stop being counted as kids?

He sighs and focuses on the washing up. With the family occupied, and Roman and Emile having been granted an early night, he could have some time to himself. He treasured these moments.

He hears a noise outside the kitchen and tenses. Maybe it was too good to be true. The servants had finished for today, so it had to be either a Holter or one of the kids. He turns around slowly but sees nobody at the opened door.

He can still hear the noise, however, so he reluctantly puts down the washing up, dries his hands, and makes his way over to the door.

“Emile? Roman?” he whispers, and peers out, “is it one of you?”

He sees someone walk into a nearby room, and looks either way before following as quietly as he can. He wanted to know why someone was down here, but he really didn’t want to get caught.

He hesitates before peering into the room - a small room with a desk and enough bookshelves for Logan to feel an all too familiar ache in his heart. But the real surprise was that Remy was sat at the desk, with a few books spread open on his desk and talking to someone on the phone.

“No, don’t fire the guy for that. I’m glad the detective got ahold of the audio...he has a good head on his shoulders. But make sure Alvin knows not to give out any evidence that  _ doesn’t  _ relate directly to his brother’s disappearance.”

Logan frowns, and listens intently, drawing back behind the door as to not be seen.

“Yes, I know. Yes, well, he doesn’t need to know anything about the slut’s disappearance, does he? And I  _ know  _ you’re not going to leak anything about my businesses. Unless, of course, you want to go down with me…I still have records of your involvement, after all.”

Logan winces at his nickname. Detective, and a brother disappearing? It could only be Desmond that Remy was talking about. What was he planning?

“Mm hmm...well, it was good speaking to you, Craine. Remember, bad things might happen if he finds out any more about past cases.”

Logan panics as Remy hangs up, hearing the man sigh heavily before standing up. Logan looks around desperately, before half running down to the kitchen again. He clacks slightly as he does, and can hear Remy calling out “who’s there?”

He gets into the kitchen and sticks his hands in the boiling suds just as Remy enters the room.

“That was you, right? Answer me, Slut.”

Logan winces, and turns around, picking up a plate and holding it up as if it were a barrier between him and Remy.

“What was me, sir?” he lies, praying his heart would slow down, instead of continuing with the fast, loud thudding that it was doing at the moment.

“I heard footsteps,” Remy half growls, “sounded like someone was running down the corridor…”

“I wouldn’t run, sir,” Logan lies again, “I don’t break rules. Besides, I was washing up, as you asked me to.”

He winces as Remy narrows his eyes.

“Don’t get smart with me, Slut. Why aren’t you wearing gloves, then?”

_ Shit _ .

“My saviour said not to,” he lies and prays that Remy won’t check. “I didn’t ask why, sir.”

Remy frowns but then sighs as if satisfied with the answer.

“...Alright. I’m sure you wouldn’t lie to me, slut...would you?” Remy cups Logan’s cheek, lifting his head as Logan glances down, away from possible eye contact.

“No, sir, I wouldn’t.”

Remy chuckles and lets go of Logan. As he walks out, Logan grips the plate as tight as he can, his left hand not gripping as much as the other.

_ Maybe I should go look...see if he left any clues as to what he was doing… _

Logan shakes his head. That was crazy. If he went snooping, he’d be whipped until his back was missing a layer or two of skin at least.

_ This is Emile’s brother. Do you want to risk Emile’s only family? Remember what happened to yours? _

Logan groans aloud.

He hated his conscience, but it had a point.

_ Then it’s decided. We have to find out what Sir’s doing. _


	24. Red Handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been a hot minute! Which we both apologize for- physical and mental health took a toll sorry for the wait!!

He hesitantly puts down the plates. He could do the washing up later, right? He might not have another chance to check out that room. Soon enough Remus would arrive and drag him off to bed. Or worse, Remy would…

He shakes his head and slowly slips out of the room, vaguely reminded of how he would sneak out at night as a teenager to visit the university library. Sure, most teenagers would sneak out to parties, or to meet friends or lovers...but the university library was open all night, how could he  _ not  _ go?

Logan sighs at the memory, countless hours spent reading the vast astronomy books that the library held. Now he wasn’t even allowed to read a simple children’s book or even the news paper, if he even so much as glanced at either of those it would lead to a trip into the basement. 

He huffs softly as he inches down the hallway, his back pressed close to the wall. He stops next to the doorway that leads into the small office. Logan leans in slowly, he breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn’t see Remy, the books his sir had pulled out were put away though. 

“He just had to make this harder…” Logan mutters as he glances back towards the kitchen, he yearns to go back but knows that his conscience wouldn’t allow it. 

Logan sighs and steps inside the small office, if he was being honest, Logan never knew this room existed, there’s a lot of rooms in this vast house that he never knew about until now. 

He gently pushes the door shut, breathing out a sigh when the door’s loud click didn’t echo down the halls. He turns to face the room, there were so many bookshelves in here, taking up a majority of the space. 

Two of the shelves held various books, a lot of them worn down and some of them… 

“Children’s books? Why does he have these?..” 

Logan slowly makes his way over, the shelf closest to the door held books such as  _ Goodnight Moon  _ all the way to  _ Red Fish, Blue Fish, One Fish, Two Fish.  _ As far as Logan knew his sir never read to his saviour, and his sir never had any children of his own. 

He shakes his head and moves onto the next shelf, this shelf was filled to the brim with horror graphic novels, and books for young teens, as was the shelf next to it. Logan glances behind him before pulling a book from one of the shelves. The poor book was tattered, the middle of it creased due to someone folding it. 

“ _ Anthem  _ by Ayn Rand, hm? Not a bad choice in the book but a little… High schooly sir.” 

Logan flicks the book open and blinks, on the inside of the cover the letters ‘ _ DJCW’  _ was written in red ink, the letters are neat and slant to the right. He flicks through the pages and notices the same handwriting in the margins taking down notes of the book, and a few doodles could be found in the margins. 

Besides the writing and the crease the book was in decent condition. Logan slips it back into place, each book that he took out looked more tattered as he went, obviously someone had read these books multiple times, and just like the copy of  _ Anthem  _ each of the inner covers of the books had the same four letters written. 

“Sir must have gotten these from a thrift store… odd usually he buys things new.” Logan mumbles as he puts a barely held together copy of R.L. Stine back into the shelf. He moves over to the last two shelves and blinks. 

Both shelves were filled with what looked to be different coloured scrapbooks, on the sides of them were years written in black sharpie, it was obviously his sir’s handwriting. 

Logan glances behind him once more, making sure no one was there before turning back to the shelves. 

He reaches up to the top shelf and pulls down a scrapbook that had the year  _ 1999  _ written in a bold black. On the front cover, just like in the young adult novels, those four letters were written, ‘ _ DJCW.’ _

Logan frowns and pulls the chair out from under the desk, he sits down and lays the scrapbook on the top. He flips it open and is met with a startling sight. 

On the front page there was a picture of young teen, well they  _ looked  _ young, but the words at the bottom of the picture says otherwise. 

‘ **_Age:16, DOB: 02/03/83, met him two weeks ago after saving him from getting his ass handed to him. A strong connection at first sight.’_ **

Logan looks at the picture again, the kid was lying on his stomach, his legs kicked up behind him. A black knitted hat was on his head, barely keeping wild strawberry blonde hair under it. He had a pencil in his mouth as he stared down at a book, Logan feels his blood run cold, the cover could be seen, it was  _ Anthem  _ by Ayn Rand. 

Logan swallows thickly as he turns the page, once again it was the same teen, this picture shows him leaving what Logan guesses is a school. Logan looks closer and squints, he notices a scar over the boy’s left eye. 

Once again, words were written below the picture. 

‘ **_Date: December 12th, 1999. Three days since his mother passed, I’ve been itching to step in, take care of everything, possibly try to take him in, but he wouldn’t like that, just like how I wouldn’t. I’ll help him from the shadows, what type of father would I be if I didn’t help?’_ **

Logan shifts uncomfortably, he flips the page again and is shocked to see a more close up picture of the boy. He furrows his brows. 

“This is a school photo…” 

Again there were words beneath the photo. 

‘ **_Date: December 16th, 1999. It was school picture day, it took a lot of bribing but I was able to get his school pictures. He’s doing so well in school, much better than Remus ever did.’_ **

Logan shudders, it was obvious that the kid had no idea this was happening. He stares at the picture, the boy had a barely there smile, his strawberry blonde hair now dyed a dark brown, it had been straightened and styled so his bangs would hang in front of his left eye. The hat in the previous pictures nowhere to be seen. 

Logan flicks through the pages, they only go up to the end of December of 99’, stopping after the last day of the month. 

He closes the scrapbook and puts it away, Logan doesn’t want to look at anymore but he feels like he should. He skips ahead to the scrapbook labeled  _ 2002\.  _

Logan spreads the book out before him, the pictures started in January. The first one was of the same boy, only he looked a bit older in this. 

**_‘Date: 01/01/2002. I can’t believe he did something so reckless! Out drinking when he’s not even old enough and letting some stranger take him home! No matter, once I bring him home we’ll work through this. A father has to have patience and that’s what I’m going to have.’_ **

Logan skips ahead, the next picture has him staring. It was the same boy, he had a small smile on his face and a make-shift birthday cake was in front of him. Two other boys stood next to him, one with striking pink hair and the other with fiery red. 

“It’s not them… Red hair is common and a lot of people are dying their hair pink…” Logan mumbles as he looks away from the picture to read what was written below. 

‘ **_Date: 02/03/2002, Age:19. Today was his birthday and I envy the two brats that got to spend it with him. That should have been me presenting him with a fresh cake, that should have been me that he aimed that soft smile at. No matter, I’ve sent him some gifts, I hope he likes them.’_ **

Logan shudders at how possessive his sir sounds, he skips ahead again and feels his mouth go dry. It was the same boy… Only this time he was tied to a chair, a blindfold over his eyes, his mouth agape uttering something that will forever be lost to time. Logan could tell that he had been crying under the blindfold, tear tracks painted his pale cheeks. 

He looks away in favour of reading what his sir had written. 

‘ **_Date: 05/31/2002. He’s home, he’s finally home and away from the people who do nothing but hurt him. I’ll have to be sure to give Broady a raise for this. His voice was strong when he tried to pretend like he wasn’t scared, he didn’t make a noise as he cried when he went ignored when he asked about his brother. I told him that I would explain, only for him to lash out hatefully. Some time in the basement will do him some good, I can’t have a unruly heir, he will obey me.’_ **

Logan looks at the picture once more before turning the page, he feels himself tense up when he sees the next picture. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Suburbs were weird places, Desmond never understood them. It was like a story really, you drive through a beaten up neighbourhood, then next thing you know you’re in a pristine suburbia with neat white houses and manicured lawns. He remembers living in a place like that one time, but that wasn’t the right place for him and Emile. 

Even at night suburbs still had that perfect look to it, honestly it annoyed Desmond to his core, but now wasn’t the time to let pet peeves bug him. 

He was parked outside a white two story house with dark green shutters, he was sure if the families around him were awake they would be suspicious of him. 

Desmond breathes deeply and gets out of his car, he looks around him once more before moving sneakily over to the front door. He tries the knob, huffing when it doesn’t budge. Sue him, he thought it would be unlocked, with it being a suburb. 

Still, it made sense that it would be locked. If you’re hiding secrets, you don’t want just anyone walking in, would you? He thinks before taking out a paper clip. He should have time to pick the lock the old fashioned way, after all.

Desmond unfolds the clip slowly, hesitating before pushing it into the keyhole, wriggling it slowly before removing it and bending it where needed. He hadn’t had to pick a lock like this in years, and he hated the lapses in memory when he couldn’t remember the next step for a bit.

He was distinctly aware that the longer he took, the more chance there was for him to look suspicious, after all.

Finally he hears a satisfying click, and he presses open the door with a turn of the paperclip. He sighs with relief, and steps in, listening carefully in case someone was there, or in case an alarm went off.

No sound, strangely. In fact, it was entirely unexpected. Surely someone up to no good would have an alarm ready in case someone broke in?

_ Unless, of course, it’s gone straight to the police, but what are the odds of that happening? _

He chuckles to himself then pulls himself together and heads upstairs. The Holters weren’t home still, from what Patton had told him, so he had a rare opportunity to snoop. And he had to make the most of it.

Desmond stops at the first door to his right, he makes a face at the brightly painted door. It was a sky blue with stickers old and new on the wood, he grabs the handle and twists it. The door swung open, the room looked like something out of a cartoon. 

Desmond closes the door back, not wanting to look at the pastel monstrosity anymore. 

He moved down the hall, the door on the right was a random closet, the door to his left beside the light blue door was another bedroom. Only this one was more up his alley with the gothic aesthetic. 

Desmond turns to leave, only to stop when he notices a familiar beige piece of fabric. He rushes into the room and picks up the cardigan that he knew had to be Emile’s. His heart races when he notices the specks of blood that was soaked into the fabric. 

Desmond lays the cardigan down, searching the room some more. What Desmond found next shook him to his core. 

The wall closest to the door was covered in pictures of his brother, some of them taken from outside while the assailant was watching Emile from his own apartment window. Some of them literally taken within Emile’s apartment, the one where his brother was sleeping on the couch sends a shudder down Desmond’s spine. 

He shakes his head and grabs the cardigan once more before leaving the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. 

Desmond checks the last bedroom, it was the biggest room in the house. He steps inside and takes a look around. Desmond moved closer to the bed, a picture was on the right nightstand. He picks it up, in the picture was Patton and Virgil he guesses, behind them on either side were their parents. 

Logan Sanders stood behind Virgil, a tight lipped smile plastered on his face. Desmond didn’t have to squint to notice the bruises littering the thin man’s arms and neck. Next to Logan was a man with too large green eyes, barely contained wild hair, and a ratty moustache that Desmond knew needed a trim. 

This must be the R.Holter the newspapers mentioned. 

“I have never wanted to punch someone so bad in my life until now…” Desmond mumbles as he sets the picture down. 

He looked around the room once more, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Desmond sighs and leaves shutting the door behind him, he makes sure to close the door he left open.

Desmond jogs down the stairs and does a quick look around in the kitchen and living room, nothing looks out of place except for some dust on the furniture. He shakes away the urge to clean up in favour of heading back to the front door, only to stop when something gleaming catches his eye. 

A door under the stairs stood out with a padlock keeping it firmly shut. Desmond glances back to the front door then to the locked door. He takes a deep breath and moves over to the locked door, taking out the paperclip that he used earlier to get inside. 

A few mumbled curses and jiggling later, the lock pops open. Right when Desmond slips the padlock free from it’s loop a bright light shines into the house. 

“Freeze! Put your hands up and step away from the door!” 

‘ _ Well fuck me sideways the alarm did go straight to the cops.’  _

Patton sighs as he flicks through the television, he was bored, Roman wasn’t with him because his papa said he needed to finish learning the rule, he couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of the horrible black eye that his papa had. Patton huffs again as he flicks through the channels faster. 

He huffs in annoyance when his phone begins to ring, he picks the device up and presses talk. 

“What?” Patton snaps. 

“Dude, it’s Jamie you’ll never believe what happened.” 

  
  


“What do you mean, he’s been arrested!” Remy yells down his phone speaker, the person on the other line goes quiet for a moment. 

“It’s nothing too serious, Holter, besides why are you so distressed? It was your nephew's house, he broke into.” 

  
  


“He got  _ arrested?  _ Holy shit what for? Wait hold on, did you say old boss?” 

“Yeah man! He got fired a few days ago, but he got arrested for breaking and entering, I knew he wasn’t one for rules but I didn’t think he’d go this far.” 

“Who even arrests their own employee!? Oh don’t bring that shit up, I couldn’t care less about him breaking into that house.” 

Remy paces around his office, hands running through his hair in irritation. First Logan goes snooping now this is happening. 

“Er… Well, he’s not my employee anymore. I fired him a couple days ago.” 

Remy stops pacing and grips his phone tight. 

“You did  _ what?”  _

Patton couldn’t believe this, even in a mugshot Desmond looked so unbothered. The older male had his tongue out, holding up a peace sign, all along with his hands being cuffed together. 

“Well… At least I don’t have to worry about him getting in the way anymore.” 

Remy runs his hands through his hair, of course, only this cocky detective would pull a stunt like this, it was sloppy, but yet Remy still couldn’t help but be impressed. 

The detective wasn’t even phased in his mugshot, or really mugshots, plural. Apparently the attendant didn’t get his good side, so the unruly detective had them take multiple pictures while he did multiple poses. 

Remy had to admit, his favourite one was the detective having that cocky smirk with his right middle finger held up to the camera. 

“Don’t worry… We’ll fix this, our little game isn’t over yet.” 


	25. The Annually Holter Baby Run Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is so late but ya'll will be getting a double update even if it kills us!

Desmond hums as he lounges back on the hard bed that was in the small jail cell, he had been here since last night. He made sure to make the guards' life a living hell while he was here, constantly singing loud tunes, complaining about the food (Which in reality the food wasn’t horrible), and bugging the guards about extra blankets even though he was already given three. 

“Alright, Wickham you’re free to go.” 

Desmond sits up and cocks his eyebrow, last he checked he hadn’t paid bail nor did he have anyone to pay said bail. 

“What’s the matter, Kyle? Did I finally drive you insane and now you’re helping me break out of this joint?” Desmond asks, he couldn’t help but grin when Kyle let out a frustrated groan. 

“No, someone paid your bail, and don’t ask who because I don’t know. It was sent anonymously.” 

Desmond shrugs and sits up, he goes to walk out of the cell only to stop. He groans and turns back around, he couldn’t leave the blankets he had in a crumpled mess like he wanted to. 

He forces himself to only fold the three blankets once, once they are neatly stacked Desmond leaves the cell and follows Kyle to the front of the jail. 

Desmond grimaces when he sees Joseph Craine standing by the front desk in the outer office in the county jail. The box holding his belongings held firmly in his ex-bosses hands. 

He cocks his eyebrows when he notices the redness to Joseph’s eyes, the older man sniffs and hands the box over to Desmond. 

“I-I need your help…” 

Stealing a baby shouldn’t have been so easy, that’s what Virgil kept saying as he and Patton drove back to their uncle's house. Patton was in the backseat cooing at the babbling baby, Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he pulled the car into his uncle’s driveway.

“Patton, quit playing with the baby, go get Papa and our soulmates to look after it,” he says, “the fun part’s over.”

“They’re  _ she  _ not  _ it _ , Virge,” Patton argues, “and the fun part is still going! Look how cute this kid is!”

Virgil looks at the bead of snot coming from the baby’s nose and pulls a face.

“When Bunny and I adopt,” he mutters, shooing his brother into the house, “we’re not getting a baby-”

Patton continues cooing over the baby as Virgil enters and calls for their dad. Their Papa would be much better at dealing with the baby then them, and besides, Virgil didn’t want it. And if Patton held onto it, sorry,  _ her _ , then he’d have to put up with her too.

Logan, as ever, is there quickly, with Emile and Roman in tow like ducklings following their mother duck. There’s a pause as the three stares at the baby in Patton’s arms before Virgil begrudgingly gives Logan permission to speak.

“That’s a  _ baby _ .”

“Yeah.”

“...A  _ real  _ baby.”

“I know.”

“A real... _ human _ ...baby…”

Virgil groans and Patton takes over, nodding happily.

“What do you think we should call her?”

Roman and Emile blanche, and Virgil can’t blame them. He goes to nitpick, but his father gets there first.

“Wait, where did you get her from? And what’s her  _ actual  _ name?”

Patton huffs and glances at Virgil, as if for back up, which Virgil was  _ not  _ providing. Patton wanted to name the kid, Patton could deal with the kid. Virgil had only been interested in the kidnapping of her.

“Josephine Craine. I think  _ Julia  _ would be a better name though. Don’t you think, my Romeo?” Patton looks at Roman dead in the eye, and the man lets out a nervous squeak before nodding.

Clearly, he’d been learning how to behave.

“And we got her from her parents’ house...can’t believe the idiots just gave her the girl version of her grandfather’s name...it’d be like if I’d been named Chris because our nan was Christina, or if Patton was named some shit like Daniel…” Virgil trails off towards the end.

“Josephine...what?” Logan rubs his head as if ignoring everything Virgil had just said, “clearly I asked the wrong question.  _ Why  _ do you have someone else’s child with you?”

“Well we don’t have our own child,” Patton points out, “so we’d have to have someone else’s-”

“That’s not what he means, moron,” Virgil says, rolling his eyes.

Patton frowns and hugs the baby closer, “Uncle Remy said something about needing her for leverage, that’s all we know, but he never said we couldn’t keep her! Just look at her, Romeo isn’t she adorable?” 

Roman goes to answer only to be cut off by an exasperated sigh from Logan. 

“Let me guess, someone’s upset Sir and he’s expecting us to care for the baby until he’s settled this little dispute?” 

Virgil does finger guns and smiles, “Bingo! Now, Patton hand the baby to papa, we have plans tonight remember?” 

When Patton hesitates, Virgil groans and snatches the child from his brother, shoving the baby into Logan’s arms. 

Logan watches as his youngest drags Patton away, he holds the baby close to his chest and stares down at her. 

“Do any of you know how to care for an infant?” 

A chorus of no’s echo around him, leading Logan to let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Of course.” 

After only a few hours with the baby, Josephine, to be exact, Logan remembers why he never wanted children. 

Josephine was loud when she cried, and she cried a lot. Every little thing set her off, be it Roman’s obnoxiously loud sneezes or Emile even just simply looking at her in some kind of weird way that babies don’t enjoy. 

Logan sighs as he pushes the sleeping infant into Emile’s arms, “I’m going to take a break, see if sir needs anything or if I’ve missed any chores. When she wakes up there’s a bottle in the fridge for her.” 

Emile watches helplessly as the one person who has experience with children leaves. He looks down at the sleeping baby and holds her securely against his chest, Emile remembers the time Desmond babysitted for their new next-door neighbors. 

‘ _ Are you sure you’re supposed to hold a baby by their leg?’ _

_ ‘Uh… No, but the kid's parents aren't paying me to hold him right they’re paying me to watch him,’ Desmond argued.  _

Emile chuckles and shakes his head, Desmond had a point, but still, he should have held the baby correctly, he almost dropped Christian six times that night because of it. 

Emile tenses when Josephine stirs in his arms, he looks down and watches as her blue eyes blink open. She lets out a big yawn and rubs her eyes with her pudgy little fists. Emile smiles down at her, a swell of pride fills his chest when the little girl doesn’t burst into tears like she’s done many times before. 

“Hi, there pretty girl… It’s hard to believe you’re my brother’s stuffy old boss’s granddaughter…” Emile mumbles as he gently strokes Josephine’s cheek. 

Emile jumps when someone wraps their arms around his waist, he stands rigid thinking it’s Virgil but relaxes when the person speaks. 

“You’re pretty good at this,” Roman says as he nuzzles against Emile’s pink hair. 

Emile smiles and steps out of his embrace, afraid that they will somehow be caught by one of the Holters. 

“Don’t see how you can say that, Logan did a majority of the work.”

Roman snorts and moves to stand in front of Emile, he smiles and looks down at the baby that was currently gnawing on her own hand. 

“You still helped, so I’m counting it as you being pretty good at this, emphasis on the pretty part.” 

Emile feels his face heat up, he nudges Roman and huffs. 

“Shut up, want to help me feed her and change her?” 

Emile couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped him when Roman comes up with a quick excuse. 

Roman was never one to take care of a child. It’s not like his boyfriend dislikes children, Roman just lacks confidence himself to properly care for one. 

‘ _ We’ll fix that… Once we get out of here we’ll discuss the future together…’  _

Emile blinks when he hears Josephine begin to get fussy, her hand no longer a suitable snack for her. 

“Okay, okay I get ya, you’re hungry. Let’s go get you a baba, alright?” 

“You’re pretty good at that, bunny,” Virgil says when he catches Emile rocking Josephine to sleep that night, Emile was exhausted. 

Turns out Logan decided to focus on Remus and Remy longer than he attended to, and Roman… Well, Emile wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but his boyfriend took every chance he could to avoid having to care for the baby. 

“I don’t see why you and Roman think that… It took me forever to get her to stop crying while giving her a much-needed bath, and she wouldn’t eat for the longest time either…” 

Emile tenses when Virgil walks over, he bites back a distressed whine as the emo man tilts his head up so they could look at each other eye to eye. 

“Every parent struggles, bunny. It’s not easy… This is why when we’re married we’re not getting a baby. We’ll adopt a toddler or something, they’re a bit easier to handle than a baby.” 

Emile wants to argue, wants to tell Virgil that they wouldn’t be adopting a child period nor were they going to get married, but he holds off. He doesn’t want to risk Virgil getting angry with him and then possibly striking him while he’s holding Josephine in his arms. 

“Yes, my saviour, that… that sounds like a wonderful plan,” Emile replies, a tight smile on his face. 

Virgil presses a kiss to his forehead and grins. 

“Well, hurry up and put her to bed so we can snuggle. I’ve been missing my pretty bunny today.” 

Emile’s smile almost falls, but he forces it to stay up as he nods. He watches as Virgil leaves him alone in the make-shift nursery that Remy had thrown together last minute. 

“I really hope my brother finds us… You don’t deserve to be in a place like this…” 

“Oh, you need  _ my  _ help? I’m fired, remember?” Desmond snarks as he snatches the box with his things away from Joseph’s hands. He rummages through the box, making sure all of his things are present. Counting them three times to make sure they were all there. 

“He specifically asked for you, Desmond! I’m giving you your job back, just…  _ please.  _ You’re the best detective, I have and I know you won’t fall for his mind games.” 

Desmond huffs and slips his gloves back onto his hands, he grabs his phone and puts it in his pocket. 

“Oh, yeah? He who?” 

“Remy Holter.” 

Desmond pauses for a moment, he looks up at Joseph and frowns. 

“What did you do?” 

Joseph sighs, “fired you. Why he cares I don’t know. But please, Desmond, he has my granddaughter…”

Desmond frowns, tapping the side of the box slightly. Why would Remy Holter be angry about him being fired? It made no sense. In fact, shouldn’t he  _ prefer  _ it if Desmond was fired? A fired detective was surely less of a threat than one still working for the police.

Police. What a joke. If they were of any use, his brother, Roman, and that Logan guy would have been found ages ago, and Remy Holter - all the Holters - would be locked away where they belonged. He almost wanted to hold that above the man’s head - that they didn’t help with his brother, so why should he help with  _ his  _ family?

But Desmond couldn’t let a child be hurt just because their grandfather messed up. Blame the one responsible, not their family members, right?

“...Fine. But you owe me more than just my job,” he mutters, “what do I need to do?”

“We need the baby, slut.”

Logan tenses up, turning to see Remy and Remus looking somehow both annoyed and smug at the same time.

“I…” He wants to ask what they’re going to do with the baby if she’ll be safe. He also doesn’t want to get hurt.

Thankfully, neither of them comment on the attempt at speaking.

“The baby,” Remy drawls, “give it.”

Logan holds the baby close then nervously, “permission to speak...sir?”

He still hates how weak his voice has become. What happened to his firm, confident voice? The one that explained how the universe worked, how the stars were formed? Was it really gone forever?

“Granted, but you better make it quick because if you don’t hand that baby over in the next twenty seconds you’ll be making a trip onto the rack tonight.” 

Logan shudders at Remy’s threat, his grip on the baby tightening. 

“Why do you want her? Is she going to be safe?” 

Silence falls over them, Josephine’s soft gurgles being the only source of sound for what seemed like minutes. 

“Jeez, Star, we know we’re not all  _ that  _ good, but we’re not  _ monsters.  _ We just need the little stinker for a game.” 

Logan blinks and tilts his head in confusion. 

“A game?” 

A wide grin breaks out across Remus’ face as he shimmies his shoulders, Logan always hated when he would do that. 

“A game! That detective that was snooping around is going to be the one looking for the little angel. So, hand her over.” 

Logan once again hesitates before doing as he is told, he was going to trust that they won’t hurt the baby, and he was going to trust in Emile’s brother’s ability in finding the child before anything bad could really happen to her. 

“Good little slut, now get, you’ve been lacking in your other duties.” 

Logan watches in disdain as his sir and saviour leave him alone, he really hopes they don’t hurt the baby, and that Desmond gets to her in time before anything does happen to her. 

‘ _ And I hope it leads to him saving us…’  _


	26. The Annually Holter Baby Run Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BOOM DOUBLE UPDATE

Desmond sighs as he paces around his living room, he is conflicted. His conscience was screaming at him to find Captain Craines granddaughter, but his pride told him to only focus on his brother, Roman, and Logan’s case. 

He groans and runs his hands through his hair gripping the tangled brown locks tightly. 

‘ _ If you find the kid then we’ll get closer to finding them, you find the baby you get to the Holters, what’s so difficult with this?’  _

Desmond snorts. 

“Me being a prideful asshole and not wanting to give into Joseph’s shitty demands. So, when he gave me my job back, he had no right to fire me in the first place.” 

‘ _ Don’t you want to find out why Remy Holter wanted you reinstated?’  _

Desmond pauses, his conscience has a point. Why did Remy Holter want him reinstated? What did the older man gain with having Desmond breathing down his neck? He may not have had a long visit with him, but Remy Holter didn’t seem like the type to go into things without a plan. 

‘ _ We can ask him… Go find Josephine.’  _

Desmond goes to argue but is cut off with the clatter of his mail slot dropping down to do someone pushing something through it. 

“This isn’t over.” He grumbles as he stomps over to his door, laying on the floor was a manilla envelope. A red wax seal with the letter H monogrammed stared up at him. 

Desmond picks the envelope up and opens it, inside was a short note with simple instructions written in familiar neat handwriting. 

_ ‘Come to the warehouse on Cameron Avenue, leave your weapons behind and bring only your wits.’  _

“Only a shady businessman would do something as cliche as this.” 

Desmond huffs as he stuffs the note into his pocket, he can focus on the other cases later, right now he has a baby to find and bring back home to her family. 

  
  


“Why are you so worried about him? We should just kill him when he gets here, get him off of our tails,” says Remus as he paces around the sleeping infant that laid on the cold concrete ground of the warehouse. 

Remy sighs and glances over to his nephew, he shakes his head before sticking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Desmond Wickham is a pawn, Remus. We need him, besides I figured you would have been excited to have a new plaything soon.” 

Remus stops pacing and frowns. 

“Why does he need to be a detective then if he’s just a pawn? I feel like more is going on here, Uncle Remy and you’re just not willing to tell me.” 

Remy smirks and claps Remus on the back with a firm hand. 

“All in due time, Remus, now I believe our guest of honor has arrived downstairs.”

A manic grin spreads across the younger Holter’s face as he shimmies his shoulders in excitement. 

“Showtime!” 

The place was a dump, that was Desmond’s first impression on this warehouse. The neighborhood it was in wasn’t much of an upgrade either, which the warehouse was familiar. Desmond remembers breaking into this building many times before as a teenager when he just wanted to hide away from his mother, especially on the days when she was too high to even notice he was gone. 

“No time to fucking wallow in self-pity and the past, I need to focus on finding the baby and getting the hell out of here,” Desmond mutters as he walks further into the warehouse. 

The building was cold, fluorescent lights hung from the ceilings bathing the whole first floor in a pale light. 

Desmond stops when something crunches under his foot, he looks down and notices a small ziplock bag filled with  _ Gerber Snack Puffs _ . He bends and picks the bag up, he snorts when he notices sloppy handwriting written on the bag in sharpie. 

‘ _ Need a snack? I’m sure little JoJo does! Come to the second floor, there’s a fun little game for you there!’  _

“What the hell is this? A batman and joke scenario?” Desmond asks aloud, he’s met with his own echoing voice. 

He rolls his eyes and opens the small baggy, taking out one of the puffs and popping it into his mouth. Desmond’s eyes light up when the taste of banana fills his mouth. 

‘ _ Damn keep giving me stuff as this and I might actually start to enjoy this little game.’  _

“Did-Did he just  _ eats  _ some of the puffs?” Remus asks, Remy snickers at his shocked tone as the watch Desmond makes his way up to the second floor of the building. 

“Seems like he did, I don’t see why you’re shocked. You’ve eaten mashed pea baby food.” 

Remus sputters and turns to his uncle. 

“Yeah, when I was a baby!” 

“Last week.” 

Uncle and nephew stare at each other for a moment before Remus turns away, grumbling about how his uncle shouldn’t judge him for his choices in foods. 

‘ _ I believe you two will get along nicely…’  _

When Desmond makes it to the second floor, he’s met with a long hallway that was lined with doors that leads into what he was guessing, empty rooms. 

Desmond sighs and walks down the hall, if there weren’t snacks in this room he was going to be upset. They can’t dangle food in front of him and then snatch it away like that, it just wasn’t right! 

He stops when he gets to the third door on the right, a note written on simple printer paper was taped on the door. 

“No snacks this time, assholes? Fucking bummer,” he mumbles as he takes the paper down. He unfolds it and is met with the neat handwriting from the note that told him to come to the warehouse. 

‘ _ First Question: Where did we first meet?~Remy Holter’  _

Desmond frowns and reads over the question again, was this a joke? The two of them had only just met three weeks prior to this, what was Remy Holter getting at with asking something like this. 

“The hell do you mean, ‘ _ Where did we first meet?’  _ We met at your office! Ya know three weeks ago? I know you’re old dude, but I know damn well you’re not going fucking senile.” 

Desmond jumps when the sound of a speaker buzzing to life echoes around him in the long hallway. 

“That’s not when we first met, Detective. Use your brain and think, I know you’re smarter than this. You have to be since you figured out Logan Sanders's case,” Remy Holter’s voice echoes around him. 

He frowns and taps the top of his thigh, what was he getting at? 

‘ _ Where did we first meet…’  _

“You’ve met him before your little meeting? Why am I just hearing about this?” Remus asks, Remy stays silent for a moment, keeping watch on the monitor as he watches Desmond mull over his thoughts. 

“At the time, it wasn’t important. Once we’re done here, I’ll explain it to you.” 

‘ _ He better get this right, I’ve done too much for him to just flat out forget me.’  _

Desmond groans and runs his hands through his hair, this had to have been a trick question. As far as he knows he’s never met this man before in his life until recently. Is there something he was missing? Maybe he’s seen the man in passing? Or when he signed up for kick-boxing lessons when he was sixteen? 

“Here’s a hint, when you were sixteen a man saved you from getting your ass handed to you,” Remy supplies over the speaker once more. 

Desmond blinks, ‘ _ A word of advice kid? Twist your arm as you punch, it’ll cause more damage and pain.’  _

_ ‘Where is your jacket? It’s like thirty degrees out here.’  _

_ ‘I don’t have one, the one I did have I gave it to my little brother, what’s it to you?’  _

“You’re the guy who gave me his jacket… We met over on 5th street, in the alley behind that tattoo shop.” 

“Bingo! Say, do you still have that jacket by the way? Not that I want it back, I’m just curious,” Remy says, Desmond was confused on the man’s genuine happy tone knowing that Desmond remembers him. 

“Um… Yeah, I still have it… Kind of grown into it now, look, I answered your stupid question where’s the kid?” 

“Boo you whore! You’re no fun! Ya don’t get the kid until you’ve answered the other questions! Go down the hall and to the right, you’ll find the stairs to the third floor, another question awaits you!” Another voice chimes in, the voice was nasally and high pitched, it grated Desmond’s nerves. 

Desmond huffs and does as he’s told, but not before sarcastically saying, “Gee, how’d you know I was a whore? Emile been talking about me?” 

He winces at the loud shrieking laughter that sounded from the speakers, ‘ _ When I get done with this I’m gonna kill that nasally voice fuck.’  _

“I did not expect him to say  _ that,  _ oh this guy is a riot!” Remus cackles as Remy forces him away from the microphone to the speakers. Remy sighs and shakes his head, of course his heir openly calling himself a whore is something that makes Remus like him. 

“Only you would find humour in that.” 

Desmond trudges up the stairs to the third floor, this better be the last note or so help him he was going to murder these fucks. He just had one job and that was to save his boss’s granddaughter, but these tools decide to turn into a bad rendition of a DC comics issue. 

The third floor of the warehouse was a more open landscape, the room was large and had a hallway to the right that held only one room at the main end. Desmond twitches when he hears the faint cries of whom he guesses was Josephine. 

“Oooh, what’s the matter, big bad Detective? Don’t like the sounds of a baby crying?” The nasal voice taunts. 

“No, I just don’t like crying in general. Now where the fuck am I supposed to go?” 

Desmond shakily taps on his thigh, wishing the baby would just shut up. ‘ _ The fuck you crying for? Shut that shit up before I make what I did look like it was nothing!’  _ Desmond shakes the sound of his father’s voice out of his head. 

“Just go to the room, with the baby! You’ve reached the end!” 

Desmond frowns, that seems unlikely but he’ll play along for now. He makes his way across the room and turns right going down the hall that only has one door. Desmond stops in front of the door, scanning over it with his bi-coloured eyes. He slowly reaches forward and turns the knob, surprised when the door pushes inwards. 

He walks inside and is met with the unbearable wailing of the baby. He goes to groan and cover his ears only to stop. Lying on the floor was just a baby  _ doll  _ wrapped in a blanket with a tape recorder next to it playing the crying sound. 

Desmond glares and stomps over, he snatches up the recorder and turns it off. He looks down at the doll and notices that it's the type with a plastic head and cloth body. 

“On the back of the doll there is a velcro opening and shit, just open it and take out the note I left in there for you!” 

Desmond grimaces and does as the nasal voice says, he reaches into the stuffing of the doll and pulls a folded up piece of paper out. 

He unfolds it and feels himself go rigid. 

‘ _ Have you ever wondered what it feels like to kill your own partner?’  _

The edges of the note crinkles as Desmond tightens his hold on the paper, ‘ _ how do they know about that?’  _

“What exactly are you meaning about that, Remus? Are you suggesting he’s killed a spouse or something?” Remy asks, he takes in Desmond’s rigid stance. 

Remus turns to his uncle with a wide grin on his face. 

“Why don’t we let him tell us that?” 

Desmond stares down at the note in his hand, how the fuck do they know about this? As far as Desmond knew, nobody but him and Alvin knew about what happened three years prior. 

‘ _ A-Am I gonna see my ma and dad tonight for dinner, Des?’  _

_ ‘Y-Yeah, kid… you’re gonna see them tonight, Ginny…’ It was a lie, Desmond knew she wasn’t going to make it. There was too much blood and the EMTs were taking too long to get there.  _

_ When her eyes closed, Desmond took his gun out and pointed it at her.  _

_ ‘I-It’s gonna be okay…’  _

“Gotta say, dude, killing her when the EMT’s were just right around the corner… pretty fucking sick if ya ask me,” the nasally voice broke him out of the past. Desmond closes his eyes and breathes deeply. 

“I didn’t know, I just wanted to save her from that pain. Now, how the  _ fuck  _ do you know about this?” 

It was Ginny’s first time on the job, Desmond was supposed to keep her safe, but he failed at that. It’s why he swore to never use his gun or to have a partner ever again, but now look he’s made the mistake of having a partner in Patton, and his brother and Roman ends up being kidnapped by these psychopaths. 

‘ _ Your fault.’  _

“It’s on the internet, you should see how many people accuse you of murdering your own partner, but I guess since you’re the Tampa PD’s golden boy, you were never going to get charged.” 

Desmond frowns and taps his fingers faster on his thigh. 

“Shut up, where’s the next set of stairs? I want to get the baby and get the fuck out of here.” 

Remy stares at the screen, watching as Desmond furiously taps his index, middle, and ring finger on his right thigh. ‘ _ So you’ve killed someone before? This is news to me…’  _

“Look at him fidget! Ha! I think we really got to him with that!” 

Remy nods and hums softly, he’s going to have to dig more into this little incident. 

“Go back where you came, then continue to the left, there will be stairs to your right that leads to the fourth floor. Once you’re there, go to the room at the main end of the room. You’ll find the baby there sound asleep on the floor along with something extra,” Remy was the one to speak this time. 

Desmond frowns and does as he’s told, he was going to get this kid out of here safely, he has to. 

He makes his way through the spaced-out room, speedwalking his way to the room at the main end. The door to the room was just metal, there wasn’t a window on it, stopping Desmond from being able to peek inside. 

Desmond grabs the handle and twists, this door swung out towards him. He walks inside and is relieved to see the real Josephine lying on the floor, just as Remy said she would be. 

He walks inside and bends down, taking Josephine in his arms and holding her tightly to his chest, earning a disgruntled grunt from the baby. Desmond blinks when he notices another piece of paper that was on the floor under Josephine’s body. 

Desmond picks it up and feels his heart constrict, it was a picture of Roman and Emi, the two of them were squished between Patton and Virgil Holter. Desmond’s never seen the two of them look so uncomfortable. 

“Enjoy the picture, Detective. Hopefully, we’ll all be having a reunion very soon,” Remy’s voice echoes around him. 

Desmond glances up and looks around the room he’s in. The walls were covered in tally marks, a long chain could be spotted hanging from the wall with a collar attached to it. 

‘ _ What the fuck happened here?’  _

Desmond looks down when Josephine begins to whine, he jostles her a bit before turning to leave, shutting the door behind him. 

“Shh, it’s okay… let’s get you back to your grandpa.” 

Desmond walks away from the horrific room, what he misses on the door was a nameplate, one that was crucial evidence to an old case… evidence that even the police from decades ago overlooked. 

‘ _ Pretty Little Star’  _ was crudely etched into the metal plate on the door that held so much pain and misery from so long ago. 

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO FREAKING EXCITED FOR THIS!!
> 
> If any of the above tags trigger you please refrain from reading! Aro and I hope you all enjoy!


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